#and the heroes think they should have been there to stop it but they weren't and now they'll have to live with it forever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kasagia · 4 months ago

Text

Skin and bones

Pairing: Halbrand/Annatar/We know who x fem!elf! reader Summary: Ever since Galadriel revealed Halbrand's true identity, you've been having some very strange dreams… dreams that aren't the innocent figments of your imagination you thought they were. Warning: I HAVEN'T WATCHED THE RINGS OF POWER. All my knowledge is based on fanfics, short scenes posted on yt and uncle google. I just couldn't get this guy out of my mind... And I don't regret anything. Inspired by: David Kushner - "Skin and bones" Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

"Y/N…" A cold shiver runs down your spine as you feel HIS hot, quiet, velvety whisper in your ear. You keep your eyes tightly closed, not wanting to see what image your mind, tired from today's meetings, has put before you this time.

For days now, your imagination had been tormenting you with strange dreams. Dreams in which you were haunted by him.

Halbrand.

You avoided speaking his true name. Somehow, the face of the one you should have hated with all your heart did not match the face of the one who had spent so many weeks by your and Galadriel's side.

And it scared you immensely. So much so that you weren't sure you could pretend to the light elf that you were haunted by the shadows of your past.

Galardiel once told you that to know true light, one must touch the darkness. But what do you do when that darkness becomes more attractive than light? What do you do to resist that magnetism? How do you enjoy the glow of pure light on your skin again when you still have spots of darkness on you in the shape of HIS fingerprints?

"Y/N." Another whisper, another brush of warm air against your cool skin, this time on your neck. Goosebumps rise up your spine, your hand shakes uncontrollably, trying to desperatly grasp something you can't see. "Let go. Just let go. I'm waiting here for you. With open arms, mime írima kal (my lovely light)."

The feathery touch of HIS lips against your earlobe sends a shiver through your body. Even though you are in complete darkness, you are perfectly aware that he is near, that his presence is right next to you.

Physically you could be miles away from each other but spiritually... spiritually he has made sure that he will haunt you every night.

"You miss me. You miss the feeling of power I gave you. The darkness you could hide in, when you were too tired of playing the hero no one appreciates as they should. Just as I miss your light. Your laugh. Your mind. Your lips. Your body..." His lips move with each sentence down your cheek and to your neck, leaving a gentle kiss as if he was appreciating your skin and paid tribute to it.

He was right. You missed this. Him. He was addictive. And like any addiction, you should cut yourself off before it goes too far... but hasn't it gone too far already?

"Do you think you can hide from me? That any elven friend of yours could disrupt my vision of you? That I would stop watching you at night in the darkness of your chambers, waiting for the moment when you finally realize that the cold you feel is caused by my lack of physical presence with you? Tell me, my beautiful, stubborn elf, when will you realize that the warmth you long for is found in my darkness and not in the light of your golden sunlight?"

You gasp as HE suddenly grabs you by the neck and uses his fingertips to force you to turn your head towards him. His mouth attacks yours with a huge force of possessiveness, anger, frustration, lust, as if he were going to conquer you by using only his soft lips and a silver-tongue trained over the centuries he spend on seducing others to his will.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn't be the next victim of his games and manipulation.

That's why you let him kiss you. Not because you enjoy it and miss the feeling of his lips on yours. You tangle your hands in his hair, shivering as you feel the cold metal of his spiked crown against the pads of your fingers.

You managed to let his guard down, letting his tongue tangle with yours in a familiar, passionate dance you used to indulge in when you knew him not as a Dark Lord but as a mere blacksmith. An electric jolt runs through you, stealing all the air from your lungs and making your mind cloud with lust—but not strong enough to make you completely forget about your plan.

Before he can realise it, you bite his lower lip and push him away from you. You summon all your power that he hasn't timed in your sleep and push him out of your unconscious mind. You can hear his loud growl of rage and the clang of his metal armour against the rocks as you fall into nothingness.

A loud thud echoes through the room you and Galadriel have rented as you fall from the small bed onto the wooden floor. You groan, propping yourself up on your elbows and cursing under your breath as you wake up from yet another dream HE has taken over.

"Another one? Which one is it this week? Third?" You sigh at the question from the elf sitting on the bed across the small tavern room. You nod reluctantly and stand up, dusting off the dust and dirt from the floor.

"I'm not counting. I lost count about a two months ago anyway." You mumble, ignoring the fact that these dreams started much earlier. You turn your back to her, hiding the blush that blooms on your cheeks as you remember how… naughty your dreams were.

Before you realized that your… night visions weren't just yours, you and he… were doing all sorts of things. Most of them weren't really things you could speak about out loud. And as much as you're ashamed of them, you have to admit they were the best nights of sleep you've had since… you found out the truth about him.

"I keep wondering how he creates this connection with you? It's a bridge that shouldn't be created without… the willingness of both sides."

“It’s Sauron.�� You reply, making sure to pronounce his name with just the right amount of disgust in your voice. "He has powers that allow him to break the rules. You know that."

"Still… they shouldn't be that strong."

"Are you suggesting something, Galadriel? Do you think I would really seek him out willingly? He has deceived us. He has deceived you and me. He wants to destroy Middle-earth, do you think I would willingly seek contact with him for any other purpose than to finally kill him?"

Your accusatory tone comes out a little stronger than you intended. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a few calming breaths, trying to calm the anger boiling inside you.

"I trust you. If I trust anyone, it's you, Y/N. I'm not your enemy here." She responds calmly and walks over to you. She cups your cheeks in her hands and rests her forehead against yours.

"I am highly aware." You respond and place your hands on the sides of her neck. "I'm just... tired. That's all." You sigh and rest your chin on her shoulder, snuggling into her.

You hold each other like that until she gently pulls away from you. She grabs your hands and looks you in the eyes.

"We all are. War is coming. Darkness is descending upon more of our lands. But together we will prevail. Sun and moon. We must work together if we are about to defeat him and Morgoth." Galadriel spoke, tightening her grip on your hands.

"I know." You mumble and shake your head. You remove your hands from her grip and turn to face the window, watching the sun slowly rise. “Which doesn’t mean he won’t see it coming. Because he will. We have to move faster, think five step ahead than he does if we want the light to break through his army of darkness.” You say not turning to face her since you're too afraid of what she'll find in your eyes. Galadriel sighs but doesn't try to catch your attention anymore.

"I guess we won't get any more sleep tonight. Get ready. I'll go find Erlond." She looks at you a little longer, her gaze burning on your back, but you stubbornly stare out at the valleys lit by the glow of the sun breaking through the morning mist, not yet feeling ready to face what is outside.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind her. You turn one of the rings forged by HIM, which you have placed on your necklace, in your hands, quietly wondering if you should really do what you were about to do. But since he's decided to play dirty against you for weeks... you might as well start returning his little blows, too.

You close your eyes and place the ring on your finger. You hold your breath as the familiar surge of power makes your blood pump a little harder and your eyes sharpen to your surroundings. The outlines of the valleys in the distance become much clearer, and you can almost smell the forest that lies miles away.

You know he can sense where you are if you let him. So you take a little risk and remove the protective shield that keeps you away from him. And Sauron bursts through your slightly ajar door as if into a rabbit hole.

"If you're out there somewhere… if you can hear me… know that you've given me enough darkness to rip your black heart from your chest without blinking, mime melin cotumo."

Maybe calling him your dear enemy wasn't the best thing to end your threat, but the only thing that could leave your lips when you addressed him were such nicknames. Never the names you knew him by. Especially the name under which he hid when you so naively gave him part of your heart.

"Are you, Y/N?"

His whispered question echoes through the empty room. You immediately throw him out and slam the door on his ghostly presence, blocking his vision of you again. You want to celebrate this small victory over him, showing him that you are still in control, but you both know it's just an illusion. An illusion you're desperately trying to fall for. Unfortunately, you guess you're not as good at them as he is.

"I don't like him." You say to Galadriel, eyeing Annatar carefully.

You held little Celebrían in your arms and watched as Celeborn, Celebrimbor, and Annatar chatted in the distance, enjoying the party Celebrimbor had thrown for your arrival.

"He is… quiet around us. But that doesn't mean we have to be hostile towards him right away. We can't be overly suspicious." Galadriel says and takes her daughter from you, who begins to cry quietly. You sigh, looking at the child in her arms.

"In these times we can be as suspicious as we want, Galadriel. Middle-earth is even more divided; we elves do not have such a solid, strong united front. If Sauron decides to attack with his orcs, they will crush us one by one. We must act, not be stuck in pointless parties."

"Parties are also part of diplomacy. I'm off to melt the hearts of the ladies of other lands with this sweet little bundle. Try not to spit venom at others. We need allies, as you well noticed." And with that, she leaves you to drown your bitter thoughts in a glass of wine completely alone.

You snort, not paying attention to what's going on around you. The ring that hangs around your neck under your clothes burns your skin mercilessly as you try with all your might to push away the memories of the nap you took after arriving.

Warm, black furs clung to you as you slept soundly in your soft bed. In the background, you could hear the crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. You were tucked into warm pillows and blankets, the tip of your nose exposed to the cool air outside, being the only thing that was bothering you from resting in your bed.

After a while it turned out that it wasn't just one thing that was supposed to bother you.

You gasp as a strong arm suddenly wraps around your waist. The blankets are lifted, and the cool air assaults your skin, sending goosebumps up your spine. A moment later, you feel yourself pressed against someone's bare, muscular chest.

"Is my queen comfortable enough?" He whispers teasingly in your ear and nuzzles your temple, tightening his grip on you as you try to squirm out of his arms. But he doesn't give you that chance.

He grabs both of your wrists and presses them to your chest as he straddles you. Black fur clings to his back, the only covering he's wearing.

"Do you intend to defile me in your dreams when in reality you cannot lay even the smallest fingertip upon me? You grow more pathetic with the passing centuries." You growl at him angrily, kicking beneath him and trying to break free from his grip.

"You will beg for my touch. I will make your cries heard throughout all the Middle-Earth." He murmurs a promise against your lips and leans down, capturing your lips in an aggressive, passionate kiss that sets every fiber of your being on fire.

The surroundings around you change rapidly. Suddenly, you are completely alone in a black and gold throne room. The only source of light is the rays reflected off a golden throne engraved with a sun.

You glance around frantically, searching for him and a weapon you could use against him. You take a few steps back, heading unconsciously toward the two thrones on the dais. You gasp as your foot touches the tiled mechanism beneath you.

The throne room begins to change, darkness giving way to light, the black marble turning white. But the entire chamber, instead of being divided in half by two colours, blends into grey. The golden throne turns white, and the black as night one becomes a lighter shade of black, almost greige. You turn your face to the landscape outside the window and gasp at what you see.

All of Middle-earth. Divided, but still... a coherent whole. Each of the lands was arranged so as to separate races that got in each other's way, where conflict could arise. The lands of the Orcs were in a barren wasteland, where life could not have arisen anyway, but they made their kingdom on it. All separated from each other by walls of mountains so high that even from the height where the palace was located, it was difficult to see the top of their mountains and the paths of the passes.

You shiver as the heavy, cool metal of the crown settles against your temples. He quickly grabs your shoulders and digs his fingers into you. He holds you against him, forcing you to stare at the land before you, a land you barely recognise anymore.

"We could have that. All of that. I would place a crown on your head, make them all bow to you. Make them bow to us. I would heal Middle-earth of strife and war, make them all live in harmony in their own worlds."

"Would you confine them within the boundaries of their lands? What if they run out of space? Would you move mountains? Would you remake the world? You won't fix them this way; you can't avoid wars and bloodshed. Who do you think you are to decide how the world is suspposed to look like?" You ask him angrily, turning in his arms.

You bravely hold Halbrand’s watchful gaze as he analyses your words carefully, probably thinking of ways to make you join his side, ways to make you see his case in a completely different light.

And you hope you'll have the self-control to reject every single one of them - every little tempting suggestion of the future he wants to show you.

"Amil! (Mommy!)" The joyful cry of a child and the dull thud of tiny feet hitting the floor later are the only warning you get before something small pounces on your legs.

You stubbornly don't look down, but into the eyes of the man in front of you, because you know that once your eyes land on the little projection of a child he wants to show you, you'll be haunted for the rest of your life by the image of what you could have had with him.

“You won't even look at our son, Y/N?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you, daring you to show him how much you don’t care or care about the future he has to offer you.

So you gather all the strength you have inside you and lean down to take the little boy into your arms. He mumbles something, playing with the necklace around your neck.

The boy has his dark hair. And your eyes. And he's too damn cute for you to ever forget the vision he shows you, that he created to torture you forever.

"How long would it take you to instill your dark, poisonous thoughts in him?" You ask with a trembling voice, giving him a look full of pain and dismay.

"I've told you many times, mime melin hon. With you by my side I would have no darkness within me." He mumbles and reaches up to stroke your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I will make you mine. Even if it was the last thing I would do. With or without your consent, I will bind you to me and make you who you were always meant to be: My queen."

You shiver as he places a tender kiss on your forehead. You hold back a broken sob as the weight of the baby on your hip begins to fade and his touch becomes just a hazy memory as you wake from this beautiful and terrifying dream.

“Can you do me the great honour of dancing with you, my lady?” You shiver when you suddenly hear someone's voice next to you. You turn around and barely keep a grimace from forming on your face when the platinum hair of the hated elf catches your eye.

"Lord Annatar. I thought you weren't dancing tonight?" You say in a forced, pleasant tone of voice and nod towards the elf whose invitation to dance he declined. He becomes embarrassed at this and clears his throat awkwardly.

"I simply have been saving my first dance in the hope that my lady of the sun would consent to grace me with it." You present him with your practiced smile, internally cursing him for being so thoughtful with his choice of words. Refusing him would be like spitting in his face - something Galadriel would clearly disapprove of.

"How could I be so cruel in this situation and refuse you, Lord of Gifts?" You tease him flirtatiously, seeing an opportunity in his obvious little affection, and offer him your hand.

You tremble as an electric shiver suddenly runs through you. The strange reaction to his closeness makes your brain buzz with thoughts. Especially when the ring hidden under the material of your dress begins to heat up.

"I may be… but right now I feel like I've received the greatest gift from you, my lady." He says, placing a soft kiss on the top of your hand. He confidently leads you onto the dance floor and pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your waist and being a little too close than was required for this particular dance.

His closeness overwhelms you. Not in a positive way. He seems suspiciously too familiar. Your body doesn't react to him as to a stranger; on the contrary, you immerse yourself in his touch as if it were familiar, comforting. You sense that something is wrong, but you can't say what yet.

"Do you like the rings we've been forging lately? Galadriel probably won't be too keen on his... idea."

"Because he follows in Sauron's footsteps. Perhaps we can dissuade him from this path. Together." You see his jaw tense slightly at your words. His grip on you tightens a little and he seems... flustered.

You narrow your eyes at him slightly, trying to understand his reaction, as well as why with every little touch he makes the ring on your chest burns like it's on fire.

"I truly believe we would be a great unit, úrin-o i world." You tremble when he calls you the sun of the world just as you tremble when he places his hands on your hips and lifts you.

He's in no hurry to put you down. It's as if he was deliberately prolonging this moment, and you let yourself be caught in the hypnotized state that his eyes bring you to.

For a moment, nothing exists except the two of you. It's just you and him. The dancing couples swirling around you momentarily become a blur.

You gasp when, for a moment, instead of Annatar's face, you see Halbrand. His mesmerising blue eyes pierce through you, making it all you can do to lean closer to him.

Your vision ends the moment one of the couples crashes into you. You land awkwardly on Annatar's chest, only his arms keeping you from falling. The couple apologizes and he just nods, pulling the two of you to the sidelines to a more secluded place.

You sigh, staring at him, your breathing heavy, not from the exertion of the dance, but from what you saw when you danced with him. Or rather, who.

"What are you?" You ask suspiciously, but he raises a surprised eyebrow at you, as if your sudden hostility was unfounded.

"You know who I am. Don't you, my Lady of the Sun?" You swallow hard at his question, but before you can answer him, Galadriel steps between you and him. A very angry and irritated Galadriel.

"He is of an unsound mind. How can he ignore what is so obvious? No one who follows the path that Sauron trod can call himself anything but his ally. I am leaving first thing in the morning. We cannot waste time while he is somewhere nearby, preparing an army against us."

"Perhaps you are giving him too much thought, my lady?" Annatar makes a sarcastic remark, but Galadriel ignores him and walks furiously away from the two of you, not even waiting for her husband, who has just reached the three of you.

"Galadriel..." You call out to her but she ignores you. "Galadriel!" Celeborn nods apologetically and follows the elf with the child in his arms. You stand in shock in the middle of the room and stare at the leaving elves.

"I don't blame them. You know what they're talking about... and about who they're talking." Annatar says, nodding at Celebrimbor. He stands alone in the corner, looking around nervously. "It would be best if you followed your lady." He advises you like a nasty snake that coils around your leg and whispers unwanted things in your ear.

You flinch and turn so you can fully look at him. He liked to play games. So he'll get one from you. You won't leave this palace without a promise from Celebrimbor to join you in case... if HE tries to attack.

Galadriel wanted to resort to desperate measures—she wanted to warn Adar that Sauron lived and wanted to use orcs in his plan to change Middle-earth. If you were to choose allies, you would rather heal the mind of an elf in whom you saw even a shred of light.

"I am my own lady. I do not have to follow anyone. Besides, I think you could use some help here, dear Annatar." You reply with a sweet smile. You see his jaw tense a little at your words. He clearly didn't want you around - that's why you had to stay here and see what the Lord of Gifts - the supposed envoy of the Valar was really doing in Eregion.

"Hm... that would be an honour to have you as our guest, my lady."

He says, smiling mysteriously at you. A shiver runs down your spine, and you already know that this won't be as much fun for you as it will be for him.

As if on cue, you drift off into blissful, dark unconsciousness.

"Fighting by your side… I felt like I could hold onto that feeling. Bind it in my very being."

"I felt it to." You mumble, staring at Halbrand's slightly bruised and scratched face.

You often had dreams like that. Flashbacks of past events. Sometimes they were real, and sometimes he was just playing with you in dreamland again, reenacting past events and laughing in your face, mocking you as you relived the same thing.

So I guess nothing has changed… if, knowing who I am, you still kiss me with such burning passion, my sunshine.

Cheap line. You managed to punch him for it many times. But that only seems to make him more cocky. So you stopped and instead looked for some way to get out of these dreams.

But now, as he leaned down and kissed you as sweetly as he had before... you could do nothing but moan and grab his hair in your fist as you pressed yourself against him, hating every bit of armour that covered your bodies and was separating you from him.

"The Valar must have spent aeons crafting those raspberry-sweet lips." He mumbles against your lips and cups your cheek in his hand. He pushes you back gently, your back pressing against the tree trunk you were sitting on.

You pretend you didn't notice that that little comment never came out of his mouth back then, and you take advantage of his moment of distraction. You take out your dagger and press it to his neck, pushing him away from you.

He needs a moment to process what happened. He chuckles raggedly and shakes his head slightly—just enough so that your blade doesn't even scratch his skin.

"What gave me away?"

"Sweet lips?" You mock him, pinning him against the rough tree trunk.

"I tried to be romantic with you, my beloved nemesis. Almost the same as that Lord of Gifts of yours, wasn't it?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. The cocky smirk doesn't leave his face even as you straddle him with the blade at his neck. You want to pierce all of his arteries, but his comment about Annatara catches your attention more than the murderous urge he's inspired in you.

"Jealous?"

"Intrigued. Do you like him?" He corrects you and asks a question that makes you want to laugh. As if there was anyone else besides him who could hold your attention for longer…

"Are you afraid that it will take your place as the worst, most venomous snake I have ever encountered?"

"Oh please… we both know that's not the only thing I'm best at. I remember one night perfectly, when…" You press the metal of the blade to his neck and draw blood from him. A black stream runs down his skin, soaking into the tree trunk, which instantly rots. "I understand. You want to be the one to dominate today?"

You snort in frustration at him and push yourself away from him. You take a few steps away from him and watch him closely as he slowly stands up and catches up with you.

"Only if you let me plunge my blade into your black, cold heart."

"Only if you acknowledge the fact that it beats only for you." He whispers and gently cups your cheek with his hand. You tremble, unable to move away from him or make any movement except to stare at him. Anger and something else—a feeling you're terrified to admit to—boil inside you like crazy. And that's all because of him.

"As if you could love anyone but yourself." You answer shakily as he leans toward you. He kisses you again, more gently, more tenderly.

He lifts your chin with two fingers, demanding full access to your mouth, as if the way he kisses you is to prove to you that he is capable of love—that he is capable of giving himself over to a mad passion that he cannot control, as if you were truly his lady.

And it is out of fear that he will manage to squeeze out of you that little challenge that he so desires that you reach for the dagger you had abandoned earlier and brutally plunge it into your heart, bypassing the plates of your armor.

You gasp, tearing yourself out of the dream he has entangled you in, but only to find yourself in a real nightmare.

You look around in panic as you see only orcs above you. The dead body of a dark elf is being torn apart by them, as if they were performing some kind of ritual over the dead. They are talking to each other in the black language, clearly too distracted to pay much attention to you.

You reach out for their abandoned weapon beside you, but you can't move much. You groan as a foot steps on your wrist, hard enough to pin your hand in place but gentle enough not to break or crush your bone.

You lift your head and bite your lip, drawing blood when you see who is standing over you.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my sweet nemesis." Annatar says and nods to the two orcs closest to you. They walk over and hold you by the arms, lifting you to your feet.

"Sauron." You snap at him furiously, putting as much venom and hatred as you can into saying his real name.

"Hello, darling. Many years, centuries even, but it still seems like one day, right?" He mockingly responds to your seething fury. You watch him closely and freeze when you see that he holds not only his crown in his hand but Galadriel's ring as well.

He had two of the three forged for the elves. The last one... hung around your neck. And he could have taken it anytime he wanted. But he would have to pry it off your dead body if he really wanted it.

"You were more handsome as a brunette." You spit insults at him, trying to stay as calm as you can as he begins to walk forward. The orcs lead you right next to him.

"I can transform back into Halbrand just for you. Would you prefer that, my lady?" You press your lips together in a thin line, about to answer him, but he's already using his powers, and before you can do anything, Halbrand appears before your eyes.

You turn your gaze away from him and try to focus on the burning desire to draw some blood that the orcs' touch on you inspires as they lead you toward what looks like a camp.

"I'd rather have you rotted in Mordor."

"Ahh… such ugly words on such a joyous day? After all, you don't get married every day, do you?" He asks casually, too excited for your liking; if the orcs weren't forcing you towards the large tent, you would have stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the back of his head in complete shock.

"Married?" You repeat his words stupidly. The orcs hand you to him after you enter the large tent and quickly flee at their lord's beck and call. Halbrand... Sauron sets his crown down at the foot of the makeshift bed and turns to regard you, a huge, cocky grin on his face that you once found sexy. In the current situation, it only irritated you more.

"I promised you I would make you a queen. My queen. I have a crown, an army, and land. The only thing that is missing is you by my side—exactly as the Valar planned." He’s been explaining this to you for the umpteenth time, as if you were a carefree child to whom he had to explain something in a simple, banal way. You clench your fists and take one deep, calming breath.

"I'd rather die."

"No, you don't. Don't blaspheme like that. We both know that's what you want. I'm only doing you a favour by taking away your free will, giving you the illusion that I'm forcing you to do this against your will, so you don't have to feel guilty about acting on your heart's desires." He answers confidently, stubbornly, in a tone you knew—a tone he had used a thousand times when negotiating with kings, queens, and nobles.

Back then, when you thought he was just a man, you were charmed by his chearism, his self-confidence, and his unwavering actions. Now you saw how dangerous that was.

"You don't know my heart's desires." You whisper as he stops in front of you. But he doesn't move to touch you, does nothing but stand there and watch you.

You want to curse him for turning back into Halbrand and for showing you this illusion. It was much easier for you to reject Annatar than him... ironic, since it was Halbrand that betrayed you more than any other being.

"Another lie. I think you've gotten a lot better at it than I have in my absence, my dear sunshine."

You snort when he calls you that. The moment you open your mouth to answer, he leans in and steals your kiss and your breath. He pulls you to him by the material of your dress and perfectly ignores any thumps in your chest you give him. You jerk against his grip, bite his lip, and do everything to pull away from him. But he doesn't let go. Not until you're gasping for air and your lips are swollen, your clothes and hair a mess just like all of you.

"You know... I am not surprised you lied to me all this time. I mean... living for so long can trick your mind. You probably don't know your true self anymore, do you? When was the last time someone called you by your true name? Not with insult or fear, but with affection, maybe even sympathy?"

"Why? Want to change that, I úrin -o mime coiv- (the sun of my life)?" He asks, slowly pulling away from you. You ignore your instincts to follow his touch and stand frozen in place as he walks over to his abandoned crown.

"Are you just going to rule them? In the hopes that they won't kill you again? That I won't convince them to do so?"

"Fear is a powerful ally. And something tells me you'd rather have me alive than dead." He answers calmly and places his crown on your head. You frown as the cool metal settles on your temple.

You let him play with you for a moment and treat you like a doll he can do anything to. You waited for the perfect moment to attack, to throw him off balance. You wouldn't give in to him without a fight. Not when you still had at least a shred of strength to resist the darkness calling out to you.

"Not as powerful ally as love." Your response makes him more thoughtful. He stares at you, contemplating the sight of you in his crown, as if trying to forever engrave the image in his mind… to bind it to his very being.

"Indeed. But you either have one of them." He nods and runs his fingertips over your exposed shoulder. You shiver as he grazes the metal of your necklace.

"And what did you want? From me?" You see him soften noticeably at your question. Something like affection… maybe even tenderness or love appears in his eyes as he moves his hand to your neck, cupping it gently.

"You know my heart's desire, Y/N. Just as I know yours." He mumbles your name barely audible and leans in closer to you. You shiver as his bearded cheek brushes against yours, his soft lips caressing your earlobe as he whispers: "I don't have to say it out loud for you to know it."

"No… you don't have to." You respond and cup his cheek in your hand. He freezes at the sudden display of affection from you and involuntarily buries his face in your palm, closing his eyes. You lean down and press a small kiss to his cheek. He sighs tiredly, as if he had travelled a truly polynomial distance, and allows himself to melt in your touch. "Because I'd rather cut your tongue out than listen to another lie from you."

Before he can react, you're already reaching for his dagger. You press it to his neck, but he shakes off your little seduction and pushes you away from him roughly. You fall with the yak onto the mattress behind you, the crown falling off your head with a clatter to the floor as you stare at him intently, both of you aiming your blades at each other.

"In some races dagger is considered as one of the love's language." She mocks you, wiping the black blood off his neck with her free hand. He licks it off—a demonstration at which you hold your breath for a moment. Bloody bastard.

"I always preferred to consider it death's language." You respond and lunge at him again. He blocks your blade with his own and grabs your arm. You hiss at the hard, painful swipe of his fingers against your skin as he leans toward you, giving you one of his long, enigmatic, dark stares.

"You know what the difference is between me and them, Y/N? They fear you, what you can do, the power you wield with such grace, like it's nothing. But I'm willing to burn in the light of your sun if it means having you by my side."

"Rather, if it means gaining that power for yourself." You growl and kick him. He falls on his back in surprise at your strength, which you take advantage of and run forward—straight to the exit of the tent.

You run through the camp and quickly take the ring from your neck. You put it on your finger and, using the power it gives you, cast illusions on yourself, becoming invisible to the orcs. You hear Halb... Sauron's shouts behind you, ordering the orcs to find you and bring you alive to him. He himself gives chase through the forest. And you have to admit that he is not so far from you.

You run as long as your legs give you strength. You stop in some clearing with a small stream. You try to find a safe hiding place, hide, and wait out the mad pursuit. And just when you think you've made it, he emerges from behind the trees.

"Y/N! I know you are here! I can feel you! I will always..." He pauses, his voice shaking, and you realise this is the second time you've seen him so... vulnerable and open. It's a dangerous reaction from him. Either it's real... or he's using it as a card in his game to win yet another game he's playing with you. "I would make you a queen. In a heartbeat. You don't have to do anything. Just come with me."

And you really wish it were that simple. But you don't know if you could look at yourself in the mirror if you just so blatantly betrayed them and everything you know for… him and his lies. As beautiful and tempting as they were.

"Queen of slaves like you!" You scream, comming out from your hidding place and attack him.

"Yes! I am a slave! I am a slave to you, Y/N. At least I have the courage to admit it to myself and to you. And you, my queen?" He says each sentence every time your blades strike each other with a metallic clang.

"Don't forget about Mogoth, my king." You mock him and hit him more and more aggressively, each of your blows a precise attack on him.

"You're going to bind to me. Willingly or not, and I will relish every moment of it." He growls and finally knocks the blade out of your hand, and he grabs your wrists, twisting your arms behind you and pressing your back against his chest, the blade at your neck gently teasing your skin, as do his lips against your temple. "Let go. Just let go. I know you are tired. Let me help you. Let me carry for you all your worries and the hatred of the Middle-earth. Let me make you my queen. Heal this world with me."

"Only if you will made ma a crown from your skin and bones." You gasp, fighting his grip, trying to twist from the iron grip his arms have on you, but it's not as easy as it might seem. He pins you to the ground, straddling you, and stares at you, breathing heavily.

"I will wrap you in them, if that's what I need to keep you at my side!"

His cry echoes through the empty clearing. For a moment, you stare at each other, not making a move. The sound of the stream around you is the only other song playing in accompaniment to your heavy heartbeat, which you can hear in the deafening emptiness that surrounds you. The world stops. Again, when you're close to him.

"I did not desire power as much as I desire you. You hurt me more than Morgoth ever did; you poison me more than the darkness. I think of you every morning, afternoon, and night. You are like a poison that I cannot draw from myself. You are the light that blinds me, that destroys me, but I cling to it like a child in the dark. Even though the darkness has been a much longer and more loyal companion to me than you." He mumbles, pressing wild kisses to your face.

You moan as his lips and rough beard abuse your neck worse than the blade he had brought to you moments ago, which he had driven into the ground beside you. You had nothing. No weapon to attack him with, to protect yourself from his sweet lips and the burning touch that stirred desires so shameful and so familiar in you.

"A pathological liar." You gasp as he hastily undoes your dress. But you do nothing to stop him. You can't anymore.

You feel exhausted, both mentally and physically, all the running away from him, all the fighting with him. Maybe you really were a lost cause; maybe you were always meant to blend with his darkness and try to balance it with your light. You don't know that. What you do know is that he feels too good against you for you to fight him any longer.

"Both of us. But I'm the only one here who doesn't deceive myself."

"I'd rather deceive myself than allow myself to think that I could desire someone like you." And it's awful that as you say that, you reach for him and help to undress him.

You were only proving that you really were a terrible liar and hypocrite. But how long could you hold back from touching the darkness that called out to you so sweetly?

"We both know this is much more than simple lust." He whispers, stroking your hair tenderly and pressing his lips to your forehead. His hands roam your exposed body, caressing every little part of you. And if you concentrate hard enough, you can forget for a moment who he really is—you can only see Halbrand and not HIM. "Tell me… what's it like to want to simultaneously pierce me with a sword, burn me at the stake, and cherish me in the privacy of your chambers, my dear sun?"

"Maddening." You whisper shakily, admitting what you feel.

A single tear rolls down your cheek—a tear that he quickly licks from you. He groans at the sweet-salty feeling of your tears and holds you tightly with his one arm as the other slowly begins to toy with your most sensitive place, preparing you for complete failure and defeat.

All you can feel is blissful pleasure as the darkness is touching you.

And just when he is about to bring you great pleasure, when he is about to unite the two of you as one after so long, he stops completely. You fidget, toss, and turn, seeking renewed contact with him that he does not grant you.

"I'll come for you. In one form or another. I'll make you my queen, whether you want me to or not. I may be a fraud, Y/N, but I don't have the strength to deceive myself. You'll understand when you will be my age. And I'll wait for that. I will wait for you to realise that I am the only one who sees you, accepts you, and adores you as you truly are. All you have to do is call for me." You almost cry in frustration as he pulls away from you, leaving only a ghostly touch on your skin as he continues to hold your wrists. "The sun is also having an eclipse, Y/N. I am your eclipse. And you will beg me to give you my darkness."

He places one last kiss on your forehead and then disappears. You sigh, looking around you, and realise with a shiver that he was never really there.

He tricked you. He connected with you through the ring you still wore on your finger and entered your mind as another illusion. You cry, your hand shakily pressed to your mouth as you try to keep from making any sound for fear that he and the orcs might still be nearby and sense you.

You bite your fingers as a pitiful cry wants to escape your lips; it starts as your mouth forms a cry of his name, but at the last moment you stop yourself. You grit your teeth and stand up from the ground. You dust off your dress and look around you.

The rising sun illuminates your face, but you no longer feel the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as you greet the morning light. You feel emptyness. A festering, burning emptiness. And the visible touch of HIS lips on your neck...

Sauron may have defeated you in your dreams and mind, but when it came to duels, when you faced each other in your own skin and bones, he lost. In the crucial moments, when he was about to make you his, you managed to slip away from him. You only fear how long you will be able to do so.

Especially since he has robbed you of all joy in the light and awakened a lust for the darkness you have touched with him...

And as you stared at the rising sun, you already knew that there would be no salvation for you, nothing that would make you forget about the electric thrill you felt every time you embraced the darkness with him.

Halbrand, Sauron, Annatar, whatever form he took, you were drawn to him. And you could either die, try to fight it, or accept it and try to save the little bit of light that was left in both of you. You didn't believe that after all the darkness he'd poured into you, he wouldn't get an ounce of your light from you in exchange. And if that tormented him as much as his darkness tormented you... then you felt at least a little less pathetic for falling in love with the Dark Lord of the Rings.

557 notes · View notes

hahaifolded · 4 months ago

Text

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Not Your Savior Author's Notes: This was supposed to be short but I just kept writing. Also thanks to @wraithdance for helping me with this. Not very angsty in my opinion Warnings: MDNI, Angst?, Microaggressions/Racism

Johnny is a lover at heart. Sure he may be in the military, but how couldn't he? The world has always been kind to him. The least he can do is be kind to others.

Even if it's Americans who are trying to take the love of his life.

“Sweetheart, aren’t you gonna eat?” Johnny was going to gag. He should be focusing on his own work, but couldn't help eavesdrop on yours and Russ' conversation.

“Sergeant Russ, what have I told you about calling me sweetheart?”

“And what have I told you about calling me Sergeant Russ… sweetheart?” Silence followed before laughter came. Johnny hated it.

In another life, maybe him and Russ could have been friends. But as of right now, Johnny just wanted to punch his stupid face. Because how fucking dare he get close to you. How dare he love on you when Johnny couldn't or at least shouldn't.

“I have to finish a few more things before I can eat.” Johnny could hear the distinct sound of your fingers tapping on your keyboard. He hears that more than your voice these days.

“You know you can eat whenever you want, whether your work is done or not.” Your fingers stopped tapping. “You know that, right?”

Silence.

“Keegan, c-can you please leave?” Johnny was taken aback. He has never heard your voice break before.

Did Keegan touch a nerve? Did you really think you didn’t deserve to eat?

Now looking back at it, Johnny didn’t see you much in the dining hall these days. You normally sat with the 141 but after walking in the rain, you started to eat in your office. Or at least, he assumed you ate lunch in your office.

“Only if you come with me to get lunch.”

“Sergeant Russ, I already—“

“No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no.” Johnny could hear some heavy footsteps. “Get up and let’s go.” The 141 sergeant distinctly heard the sound of your chair moving.

“Keegan, let me go, you can’t just—“

“Stop fighting me and let’s go!”

Even if Keegan has a point here, that doesn't mean he can just man-handle you. He shot out of his seat and rushed towards your office. However, before he could step inside, Keegan started to speak again in a much softer voice.

“I don’t know what these fucking Brits told you but you deserve to be here.“ Johnny heard you take a deep breath. “They might not care about you, but I do, so please let’s just—“

“Keegan, respectfully, fuck off.” You cut him off. “You‘ll never get it, okay? You’re a white man. You've never needed to prove yourself. So don’t come in here on your high horse and try to be my hero. I don’t need saving, I just need teammates who’ll let me do my job.“

Johnny could hear you breathing heavily, but he couldn't understand why you were so worked up? Keegan was just trying to look out for you... what's so wrong with that? Also what do you mean he didn't have to work hard? Johnny had to work hard and he's a white man.

Johnny tries to peer inside your office but had to quickly pull back as Keegan walks out. His eyes followed the American out.

“Sergeant MacTavish, do you need something?” Johnny jumps a bit after hearing your voice. He couldn't help but stare at you. It's been awhile since he's had you so close. Maybe this was his chance to show you he still cares.

"Y-y-ou should eat," he stutters out. Your eyes widen and you ask him to repeat himself. So he does. Johnny explains that despite Russ getting on his nerves, he's right. You should eat. And that you also should have been a little nicer to the guy, he was just looking out for you.

You weren't sure whether to scream or fight Johnny right now. Instead, like you always have, you take a deep breath and just leave. You didn’t have time for this anymore. You hear Johnny call out your name, but you ignore him. You just shut your door. Maybe this time, they’ll let you work.

An hour goes by and to your joy, no one bothers you. A small part of you hoped Johnny would come in and ask more questions, but you quickly pushed it down. He hasn’t cared about you in over four months, why would he suddenly care now? Now with that report done, you rush to the restroom.

As you walk back to your office, you fight the urge to look into the temporary office of the allied task force. They were an… interesting trio but you honestly didn’t want to entertain them. You were not going to make that mistake twice.

You swing your office door open and stop in your tracks. Sitting on your desk was a plastic bag with take-away boxes clearly in it. You slowly approached it and grab the note stapled on the bag.

It read: eat it now or later, totally up to you. The boxes are safe for the microwave.

Sorry, your teammate, Keegan.

You really couldn't believe it. You pointed out this man's privilege and told him to go fuck himself. Any one else would have had a fit and probably reported you, but instead he bought you lunch and apologized.

This had to be a trick… right? No one is that mature. You grabbed the bags and marched to the makeshift office.

And as you fly past a certain Scotsman's office, Johnny couldn't help but peak outside his door. For a moment, he was ecstatic to see a bag of food in your hands. But when he realized you were headed towards the new guys office, he couldn't help but feel nervous. What were you going to do?

"Sergeant Russ?" Johnny floats close to make sure everything goes well.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"What's this?" Johnny connects the dots and realizes that Russ must have bought you food. Fuck. Why didn't he think of that?

"Lunch... or dinner. Up to you."

Your scoff rings out the door. "Why?"

Johnny hears Russ take a deep breath. He's probably annoyed. Now Russ is going to lash out when this could have all been avoided if you just had accepted his --

"Because you were right." Johnny hears a chair scrapping the floor before Russ continues. "I won't ever get what it's like to be you. And I can say all that I want but it won't change the fact that the rules are different for you and I."

"Keegan, I--"

"Please let me finish here." A heavy silence fills the air before Keegan continues. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to try to help you. And no, that doesn't mean I'm going to try to save you, because I know you can do that yourself. You've been doing that. Just... just let me help my teammate in any way I can." Johnny hears a few heavy steps. "Is that okay with you sweetheart?"

Johnny couldn't understand what just happened. Keegan was just trying to be nice and you get annoyed. Keegan leaves, buys you lunch, and then apologizes. What was going on here? Did Johnny miss something here?

He must have, because he couldn't understand why you would just say,

"Well, Keegan, help a teammate out then. I'm feeling like an early dinner tonight."

Word Count: 1231

More Thoughts - Next Thought

#cod x poc!reader #cod angst #cod fanfic #cod x reader #keegan russ x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #nikto x reader #horangi x reader

445 notes · View notes

sugarlywhispers · 1 year ago

Text

b.katsuki + lava Quirk!wife (both Pro Heroes)

☆—a.n; i woke up today feeling feisty lol not really xd just wanted some "i'm crazy as you are" type of love today lmao✌🏼🖤

Bakugou Katsuki is obsessed with you.

And he doesn't even try to hide it.

You're his sidekick. You had trained in his Agency since you were a mere brat doing your internship your first year at UA. Of course, there were literally counted the times you had encountered him in person. The other Heroes that joined his Agency were the ones in charge of the kids. They had told you how Dynamight hated when babysitting time came every year, he wouldn't even participate in those actually. So they would advice to not cross his path.

From time to time, Dynamight would watch their sparrings sessions, gave them a bit of advice–more like mean criticism yell at them. But he had better things to do, people to save, villains to get their asses destroyed by him. He was not going to waste his time with annoying brats like you.

He had heard of you, of course. The one brat that could control and handle freaking lava like it was fucking nothing. Of course when he saw you, he thought his sidekick had pulled a prank on him, joking to see if would be excited about the idea of having someone with that type of Quirk in his Agency. You couldn't be the one with the lava quirk. You looked... normal. Quirkless even–if this were other times and if he would judge people about it. He had changed, okay? Thank you very fucking much. But he did think it was impossible that you were that amazing brat the other heroes were talking about. They had even compared you to him, in witty and determination to become the number one Pro Hero on the ranks, in strength and no mercy against villains, or other heroes and classmates.

When he stood right in front of you one day, towering almost three heads over you and almost one more person's size to the side, Dynamight laughed. You looked like a little bunny caught red-handed, terrified by everyone around you–especially by the size of him–and skittish, almost like what Deku had been as a kid.

That should have been a first warning for Bakugou–never judge a book by its cover.

You have trained in his Agency the three years you had been in UA, and he has never once seen you nor your Quirk on display, nevertheless in real action. He had only heard how good you were in trainings from the other heroes. But he didn't care enough to actually sought-after. He was already fighting Deku for the number one spot on the rankings, he didn't have time for brats like you.

Until one day, a dangerous villain, that created enormous monsters of metal almost to the size of a ten flour building, was causing too much disaster appeared. It was more than chaos, it had been a destruction like no other.

Dynamight nor Deku could contain the motherfucker.

He was bruised, his hands beat with agony at the amount of times he had used his blasts and the push to keep going, his body muscles were screaming for him to stop. A quick glance to his side where Deku was, and the guy wasn't better than him, breathing like his lungs couldn’t no more. Every other hero in the scene was in the same shape.

They were fucking losing.

And then, like an angel sent from heaven–or better said, a demon sent from the deepest hell for the way you fucking looked, you appeared in all your majestic glory, lava making you slide in between them, surrounding you like it was nothing, like strings coming from inside your body, and began a new fight with that fucking villain's monsters.

Bakugou saw –an enamored expression on his face– how you your whole demeanor changed, your skin, your eyes, everything in you became so menacingly, so evil looking, so freaking scary, that if you weren't training to be a Hero, he thought you would be one the most terrifying villains of all times –even more than that piece of shit AFO.

The lava was visible in all your body, and you fought, a crazed smile and eyes opened wide, enjoying the damage you were doing to the metal monsters; your joy was shining bright for everyone to see, as you yelled, "DIE, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" as the monster melted under your hands and body.

He was captivated, fucking spellbound, by the sight in front of him. He fell to his knees, watching you melt every single one of the monster in one more movement of your hand, as lava flowed towards them, capturing and melting them as you stand straight, the expression on your face serious and deadly. You then walked towards the source, the main villain who was creating this chaos, and the guy literally fell to the floor in fear, trying to crawl away from you in tears. When you stood before him, you crouched to his level, and smiled devilishly.

The villain pissed his pants.

And Bakugou's cock twitched.

He then murmured, "I'm gonna marry the shit out that woman."

Deku chuckled, shaking his head and letting his body fall to ground in tiredness. Everything was okay now.

From then on, you were by Dynamight's side all the time. The second you graduated –Bakugou Katsuki of fucking course attended the graduation ceremony– he offered a job on his Agency for you. And you said yes, even though you had options like Deku's Agency, or Hawk's, and even Endeavor had offered you a big place on his, trying to win you by saying that most of his sidekicks were fire-like Quirks and that his mother had a Quirk similar to yours, he could ask her for advice for you. Bakugou's stomach turned thinking he might had won you over that. But before he could finish the sentence, "Would you like a spot on my Ag–", you exclaimed a big YES, smiling warmly and eyes shining in excitement.

He had to clear his throat and look away at your expression, making something tingle in his chest. Was that his heart?

You became his partner then, in missions, in interviews, in meetings with other Agencies when some big villain appeared and they had to join forces. You were always there, not behind him but next to him.

In interviews he would always let you speak about how everything went and thank every body who helped. But Katsuki would look at you. Look as the lava started to dissipate from your skin, slowly turning down the temperature and going back to your normal color. Your hair that became liquid lava slowly became the color of greyish-black rock and then smoothed its way to your normal texture and color. He always felt mesmerized watching the process, and he would look at it any opportunity he got.

It wasn't until one night out with his old friends that Pikachu said, "Dude, tone down your thirst a lil' bit," in between laughs with Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kirishima patted his back, shaking his head, "Your sidekick, man. The lava girl?"

"What?"

"What we are trying to say," Mina smirked, "is that everytime you look at her, its almost palpable the way you want to eat her."

Bakugou gulped. "Shut the fuck up. I don't look at her like that."

Mina winked at him, "If you say so..."

That night he searched on the internet in his phone for interviews, desperately. Fuck, his friends were right. He did look at you with a fascination and hunger he had never saw himself do. He remembered thinking about marrying you back in the days, but that had been the heat of the moment, right? This annoyed the shit out of him. But watching you again in those videos, as you smiled so kindly to the reporters or other Hero friends or to even civilians while looking so freaking scary when your Quirk was activated, made something stir inside his belly.

Fuck, you're gorgeous. You're everything he didn't know he wanted.

And that's when he decided he would not hide his feelings for you anymore.

So now, a few years after, when you are married to number two Pro Hero Dynamight, people always talk about how your husband always looks at you. How he always encourages you in your fights to "kill those fucking piece of shits, baby!!" as he is very close to you fighting his own set of shitty villains and you encourage him saying "show them who is the number two hero, love!" He looses it then, a blast that ends it all.

They talk about how he would always kiss you after a fight, even after all that adrenaline that makes him want to bury himself deep inside your warmth, he only holds your face gently, gloved thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly, eyes locked onto each other like the world doesn't exist outside that moment, and he kisses you softly, a simple touch, a cute press of lips that lasts a millisecond so he doesn't burn the skin of his face and lips. And then he pulls one of your hands with his up in victory.

He didn't only win the battles, he won you each and every time he got to simply look at you, be next to you, kiss you.

He is obsessed with you, and he doesn't want to fucking hide it from the world.

#mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha smut #bnha smut #mha bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki x reader #mha bakugou x reader #mha bakugou

2K notes · View notes

yoru-exe · 1 month ago

Text

PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . promise in vain

back then, you didn't understand why seers should maintain a neutral position, absolutely avoid from directly contributing to battle planning, are forbiddened to form strong connects with their associates and use their gift for personal gain. how you wished you've taken your master's teaching more seriously as you gazed into the near future of the war's outcome. your heart crumbled like amphoreus destined to fall to ruin, helpless to the sight of the man who you've been war counseled to laying lifeless on the ground, the light in his eyes extinguished.

you broke all the rules a seer should abide to at any circumstances. now, it's time to pay the price.

phainon walked across the strategic meeting room, inspecting the last of the details before the battle begun. you stood silently by his side, watching in longingness your silhouettes that seemed to dance on the wall. no harm could come to them, at least before the light goes out.

"now that we have all the support that we requested for, we can ensure the safety of the people should the enemy decided to break in from the west wall. if this happen, then i trust you to-".

"can you not go?".

the question spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it. the silence that followed was deafening.

"i'm afraid i don't understand what you're trying to say".

when you spoke again, your glassy eyes met his, tear threatened to spill, "can you not go to the war?".

the two of you rarely had any physical contact for as long as you've been associated with each other. perhaps it was just the unspoken rules you set; i help you, you help me, nothing else. but the instant he saw your heartbroken face, a sight he's not used to, his body moved instinctly to hold you in his arm, as he caressed your cheeks, wiping the fallen tears away, "you know i have to. but we've planned for this. i'll be fine".

"but what if you don't survive this?"

a hint of doubt crossed his face, but it's gone as fast as it came, replaced with a determined expression that you know he practised a million times to lie to even himself, "i'll make sure i will and come home to you".

if your thoughts and emotion weren't in such a messy state, you would have been more appreciative towards his confession. instead, you burst with the fear that you could no longer surpress, "but i saw you-".

you didn't get to finish your sentence as phainon pressed his lips on yours, sealing away whatever fate of his that he's aware you're not supposed to reveal. it didn't matter.

it didn't matter that he live or not.

what mattered is he made sure you know he meant it when he said he'll come home to you.

he continued to hold you firmly in his embrace after he pulled away. his expression was one of sincerity and calmness, like a hero ready to sacrifise himself knowing that he know it was a sacrifice that worth making.

"just wait for me, okay?"

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

nameless faces left me in SHAMBLE i need to cope, therefore this piece was born yea i think phainon is up for one heck of a nasty fate you know how greek myths love giving their heroes brutal death or whatever. if the story ended up on a completely different route than what i thought it would, please dont at me sob

#honkai star rail #hsr #phainon #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #phainon x reader #divider by strangergraphics

308 notes · View notes

heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 6 months ago

Text

It Only Takes One

Jason has never felt more useless in his life. There's a gun to your head, and all he can do is watch. ~1.2k words

You're kneeling in front of him. Any other time, he would be fighting the heat that threatens to rise to his face. Any other time, he would be reaching out to cup the back of your head, eager to guide you closer. But it's not any other time. There's a gun pressed to where Jason's fingers should be on your scalp, and Jason feels cold.

The armor of his Red Hood gear is too tight. He can't tell what your expression is under your domino mask. He wonders if you're scared. It would be worse if you weren't, if you trust him enough to save you.

He doesn't hear most of Falcone's speech, he's too busy desperately thinking of a way to save you. He can't seem to come up with one. The cold metal of the gun is against your head and he's halfway across the room from you. He doesn't know how to save you.

Falcone shoves the barrel of the gun against your head. It takes every inch of Jason's self-control not to lurch forward. "You really thought there wouldn't be consequences for burning down my warehouses, did you," Falcone asks, smug and confident.

"I'll admit the two of you have been a real problem for me," he continues, nudging your leg with his foot in feigned disgust. He looks up from you to meet Red Hood's gaze, "But it only takes one good bullet to deal with issues like this."

Jason does surge forward at that, and the henchmen at either side of him force him back down to his knees.

Falcone just laughs. "Ah, ah, hot shot," he knocks back the safety and Jason's ears start to ring, "wouldn't want your partner to spill their brains everywhere. Not when we haven't had any real fun."

You still look so calm. Even as he thrashes and writhes against the men holding him down, you're kneeling like there's not a thing wrong. Like your life doesn't hang in the balance, like just one twitch of Falcones finger wouldn't take away the person Jason needs most.

All his training, all his skills and reflexes, all has come down to nothing. Because he can't save you. He can't stop the cruel smiles that form on the thugs around you. He can't find a way to cross the room and get to you before the trigger gets pulled.

"Don't shoot," he snaps out, all the panic and fear he's feeling filtered out through the helmet in a false bravado, "Aren't they more useful alive?"

Falcone scoffs and kicks you again, "Neither of you are useful."

"I could be," Jason promises. He could be. He could be anything to keep you safe, "I used to run more territory in Gotham than you've ever seen. I have an in with The Bat. I'm the best at what I do, and you know it."

Interest speaks in Falcones' eyes. Good. He should be focused on Red Hood. He should be lowering that gun a fraction of an inch. He should consider everything Jason would do for you. The lines he would cross. The people he'd hurt. He'd change the world to get you home safe.

Falcone lowers the gun completely. Jason wants to be relieved, but you still have other guns trained on you. You're still in danger.

Falcone takes a step closer to him, "Alright, Hood, I'm in a good mood tonight. So, let's make a deal. You tell me who Batman is, maybe do me a few favors, and you and your partner are free to go."

"They leave first, and then we talk," Jason counters. As if he'd risk you getting shot.

Faclone tuts and points his gun back towards you, "That's not how this works, son."

Red Hood stiffens. He doesn't feel like a hero right now, he rarely ever does. But in this moment, he's weak. Pathetic. He has one chance to keep you safe, and he's going to take it. Jason opens his mouth to speak.

Glass shatters and smoke fills the room. Instinct kicks in and Jason's thrown off the men holding him down before Falcone even has a chance to bark out orders. Nothing else matters but getting his hands on you.

There's yelling. None he recognizes. He breaks more bones than he has in weeks. Blood splatters onto his armor.

When the smoke finally starts to clear, Jason scans the room desperately. Every single goon is knocked unconscious on the floor. Falcone's in handcuffs, limp on the floor.

He's lucky that Red Robin and Spoiler got to him first. Jason is more than inclined to remind him why Red Hood was the most powerful crime lord Gotham's ever known.

"Hey-" your voice cuts into his darker thoughts. Jason doesn't hesitate to move towards you and grab your waist with both hands, tugging you against him.

He scans your face, "Are you hurt?" He's frantic, his hands hold you just a little too tight, he's crowding your space. Jason's aware of all of this, but he only pulls you closer.

"I'm okay. I'm not hurt. Are you?" You say, pressing your hands to the leather of his jacket.

His shoulders slump and he drops his head to rest his face plate against your forehead, "I'm– fine." He takes a moment, a selfish minute to focus on your breathing.

He pulls back to nod towards Spoiler and Red Robin, "We're leaving." Jason doesn't bother to check if they acknowledge him, only pulls you along to the balcony.

He's more shaken than he wants to admit. He needs to get both of you out of here, somewhere safe. You follow him willingly, don't say a word until he's led you all the way home to your apartment.

You don't try to talk him out of anything, not when he pulls you onto his lap and holds you close. You let him toss his helmet to the ground and hide his face in your shoulder.

Jason's not sure how long it stays like that. Your armor digs into his skin. He's sure his own suit is doing the same. You play with the ends of his hair. He tries to keep his heartbeat steady.

Jason nearly convinces himself that both of you are safe. That it's going to be okay. He almost believes it until you speak up.

"Were you going to tell him?" You ask quietly, so softly he might have missed it if his every sense wasn't trained on you.

"Tell him?" He mumbles in your neck. Jason knows exactly what you're talking about. But he's stalling. There's no way to really answer.

You don't respond. He doesn't answer.

Of course, he was going to tell him. Of course, he was going to put everyone they've ever cared about or loved in danger.

You know that. You have to know that if you don't ask again. There's not a thing he wouldn't give to keep you alive, to keep you happy and healthy and safe.

He'd trade any secret, commit any atrocity, betray everyone who ever trusted him, all for you. But how can he put that into words? He can't. Doesn't know how. And you don't deserve the burden of that. He can't lay something so heavy at your feet.

He holds you tighter instead. The silence is answer enough.

#red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you

1K notes · View notes

feefivefoe · 6 months ago

Text

I guess I'm unintentionally working my way up the age ladder, so Jason next-

This is the first part that contains backstory stuff I gave my reader, so unfortunately this is where a lot of the "they can be anyone" immersion dies, sorry y'all.

Genuinely, he thought he might hate you at first. Even at the preteen age of 12, where children were usually trying to start striving to independence, you had been so...bland.

It's not that you didn't stand out. Quite the contrary. Anywhere Alfred could be found, you were just a step or two behind him. A leech. Only ever speaking in a hushed voice, making the old man strain himself to hear you, surely.

He doesn't think you've ever even looked him in the eye.

It isn't until that summer he starts connecting the dots. You still cling to long sleeved shirts, pants over shorts, even when it's clear you're struggling to not overheat.

Then he catches you in the kitchen in the middle of the night, t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Burn marks, healed yet gruesome, decorate your arms and legs. Based on how they're positioned, he'd argue they probably exist on the rest of your body, too.

And yet, despite his invasion of what you clearly(?) wanted kept hidden, you merely bow your head in shame and offer a meek apology.

That's when he stops seeing you as a problem, but as a victim of consequence.

Not a bratty child who doesn't care enough about the lower class to speak to your new 'sibling,' but a lonely child who had never even once considered he might want to speak to you.

"Mister Wayne and Mister Grayson are very busy." You had said once, matter of factly rather than bitter or sad. "I'm sure they'd spend time with me if they weren't. But they have two lives, so they have less time than anybody."

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that they make time for him. And the rest of Gotham.

As you do with Alfred, you begin to shadow him. Meandering behind him without a care as to what his plans are, happy to receive the barest of acknowledgments.

You hesitate when speaking about yourself, as though taking up his time with mentions of you is an issue. He's starting to understand why.

Jason isn't sure if it's pity or growing affection that keeps him around, at first. For a while, he sees you as more of a sad, wet dog than as his family.

But you begin to connect with peers at school, finding validation outside of those that feel forced to give it to you. You mature, grow up more than you should, and realize the reality of your home life.

And Jason is thrilled! ...and...a little sad? He's happy for you, sure. Having friends is probably what you needed. People who want you around, genuinely. Who choose to make time for you.

But he'd be lying if he said that the way you used to stare at him didn't make him feel like a hero. Like he was doing so much, changing your world, simply by existing.

You still speak, of course. You're friendly siblings that get along well. You give him various foods you've tried making, courtesy of Alfred inspiring a desire to learn to cook and bake on your own. You talk about books you've read together, and listen intently while he rambles about his favorites.

You even peek in after particularly rough patrol nights, just to make sure he's gotten through it okay.

But it isn't...quite the same. No, but it's...it's for the best.

And he is still a hero! As Robin, he's protecting the whole city alongside Batman!

So he's still a hero.

He's still your hero.

"Jay? I was wondering if I could ask you for some help. The show my club is doing is one of those old books you like-"

"They aren't that old."

"-and my character doesn't show up much in the movie-"

"You watched the MOVIE before reading the book!?"

"-so I wanted to ask if you'd help me with characterization!"

He remembers groaning at you and rolling his eyes. "I'm busy tonight. Go watch the dumb, BAD, movie again." He pauses. "Uh, but I can tomorrow. I'll make sure I don't have anything planned, promise."

He saw you pause, and sees the constant same promises pass through you.

"I...have other arrangements. I'll make it up to you next time."

"Ah...sorry, kiddo! Big kid stuff. But next time! You trust your big bro, yeah?"

But this is Jason. Jason doesn't lie to you.

Jason keeps his promises.

You smiled. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

...

Then he died.

#neglected batfam #yandere batfam #bat tag #neglectful batfam #yandere batboys #yandere dc

654 notes · View notes

butchizuku · 9 days ago

Text

Limerence ᥫ᭡; Midoriya Izuku + Bakugō Katsuki

ᨳ Synop. Getting hit by some hentai-esque wasn't on your thursday afternoon agenda but fate had a cruel, yet funny way of working. Finding yourself the damsel to two heroes, you struggle between giving into want and remaining level headed.

໋𓈒 Details. 18+ minors dni, gn afab, they/them pronouns used to refer to reader,extremely dubious consent, sex pollen quirk,threesomes, love confessions, oral (reader/katsuki receiving), fingering, anal (izuku), unprotected sex, creampies, no lube, no prep, unrealistic sex implied past relationship between izuku and katsuki, post manga timeskip, izuku is a teacher, katsui is a pro-hero, mild manga spoilers run time; 7.2k ৎ

(՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞) Director's Note. This spiralled into something even I couldn't fathom but please, enjoy <3

Every Thursday, Izuku walks you to the train station. The two of you work late most days but on Thursday you find yourself staying until the custodians shooed you out of the building with a mildly annoyed look. It was his first year teaching and your first year teaching at a hero school. U.A, was unprecedented in its unconventionality and unique approach, it left you and Izuku constantly crushed beneath a mountain of half graded homework and lesson plans neither of you had time for.

It surprised you more than it probably should have, that Izuku was struggling. He was an alumni, he knew exactly how the system operated at a far deeper level than you did, but he was drowning. He wore a smile on his face nonetheless, he may have been drowning but he was doing it happily. You weren't sure if it was for his students sake or for his own, you’d assume it was the latter. Everyone needs something to keep themselves tethered and sewed together. You didn’t judge. There was something to knowing that a great hero like Izuku needed something to keep himself a float.

That’s why you stayed late every day after work to lend him a helping hand. The first years could use all the extra help they could get and so could he. Their English grades had been abysmal, apparently the worst Principal Nezu had seen in years. As their homeroom teacher, it was Izuku’s job to get to the bottom of things. That leads him to you, again and again. In search of an answer, you weren’t sure but you didn’t mind shouldering the burden. You learned in the first few years of your career, much of teaching meant relying on those around you for support. You leant on your mentor teacher and shared resources with the other newbies who filled the staff room early in the mornings. Izuku didn’t like to lean, he’d shoulder it all alone if he could help it. That’s how hero training shaped him, you think, you couldn’t be too sure.

“I appreciate the company,” you say, finally cutting the silence that sat in the air between you, “But, I don’t want to inconvenience you since you live on campus.”

The slowly setting sun rays prick at your irises forcing you to squint as you peered at Izuku over your shoulder. His neatly styled suit that he wore to work everyday was half crumpled, missing his blazer and bright red tie. They were slung over the back of his chair in his office, never lasting more than half the work day.

Izuku’s lips quirk up slightly, the glint in his eyes is the same one he uses to teases his childhood friends who stop by U.A, “Haven’t I told enough you that you’re never an inconvenience to me,” he grins, slinging his arm around your shoulders. He’s a few inches shorter than you, even shorter when you wear your platform oxfords, he has to stretch himself to reach your height, “Besides, it isn’t safe for you to walk home this late in the day.”

You roll your eyes, your face warm. It was one stop to the studio apartment you were renting in the heart of Musutafu. You were certain if he didn’t have to check up on the students in their dorms he’d likely walk all the way home with you. But, as a homeroom teacher, it was his job to ensure class 1.A didn’t burn down the dormitories before the tenth anniversary of them being added to the campus.

“Still, you have enough work on your plate, I don’t want to add to it.”

Stuttering out the last few words made the very tips of your pointed ears burn. Under the warm, golden glow that bathed the city sky, you hoped your blush wasn’t too apparent to the naked eye. Something akin to butterflies fluttered in and out of your ribcage, tickling your chest until you were squirming for reprieve. Though he was now quirkless, Izuku was still as strong as he was during the war. He easily kept you pinned against his side as the two of you strolled down the sidewalk.

“Walks are good for the body and soul!” He chirps, chuckling at your petulant frown, “If anything, I should be thanking you for letting me accompany you.”

Squinting at him, you heave a sigh, “So if I said no, you wouldn’t walk me to the station?”

Izuku paused for a moment as though he were thinking before a sheepish expression bled onto features. Colour filled his round, freckled cheeks as he chuckled.

“Well, no!”

The exasperated breath of air that passed your lips was melodramatic and half dramatized as if to cover your tracks. But, you liked this cat and mouse game that you and he played each time he walked you home. You liked him.

You weren’t supposed to like him, not in the way you currently did but your heart was weak to his kind eyes and the soft way he regarded you and his students.

“See! So, why would I even bother,” you murmur, turning your face away to hide the growing smile that played at your lips, “I know you, Izuku and I know how persistent you are!”

“I’m just trying to do my civic duty and keep you safe.”

You aren’t a hero, the words almost rolled off your tongue. As if the crushing reminder of all that was lost to him was some playful foible for you to tease out when the mood was right.

“I can keep myself safe just as well,” you say instead, “And, I carry that taser I confiscated from one of Gang Orca’s students at lunch.”

Izuku stares at you, long and hard. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if your lack of quirk or desire to be a hero worries him. Most had pipe dreams of the glory that came with the title hero. There were fewer people who didn’t care for heroics than those who were quirkless.

“Really?”

His eyebrows dart into his hairline as he openly gapes at you, shock marring his features.

“You know those are illegal, right?” He asks, his tone climbing higher and higher, “Isn’t that why you confiscated it in the first place?”

Letting out a nervous chuckle you blanched, “It is?” You question, biting the corner of your lip, “I confiscated it because it’s dangerous for kids to be in possession of, even when they’re super powered heroes in training.”

“Yes!”

The two of you pause in front of the subway station, silence washing over you for a moment.

“Why don’t I stop by your place and pick it up,” Izuku offers, his calloused fingertips brushing your elbow, “I can take it off your hands and get rid of it, no one has to know that you kept it.”

His hands are scarred, much more than yours could ever be. It’s a sobering reminder of the life he used to have, the life he could one day have. The two of you were so different, sometimes it was easy to forget that. You and he wanted different things, and your commonalities could one day disappear. The thought made your stomach churn in discomfort.

You liked his presence and his friendship. But, you knew if he still had his quirk he wouldn’t be teaching. It was a hard pill to swallow.

“Yeah, alright,” you mutter, forcing a smile to your lips, “If you’re coming all this way then at least let me treat you to dinner.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Izuku turns a deep shade of red, “No, it’s alright, I want to help you out!”

Before you’re able to protest, the air is stolen from your lungs as a stranger's body barrels into yours and you’re knocked to the ground. Your palms are skinned from the pavement, blood blotting along the surface as you groan in pain. A strange scent fills the air, it's nauseatingly sweet and forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

“Are you alright?” Izuku coughs, crouching down to help you off the ground, “Did you hit your head?”

You shake your head, lips tightly pursed as your face scrunches up. Warmth melts through your body, every hair standing on end as a shiver trickles down your spine. Try as you might, no words can pass through your lips. They get stuck somewhere in the back of your throat, leaving only the slightest of whimpers to slip through. Your cheeks burn even hotter with embarrassment as Izuku helps you to your feet, but you can hardly stand. Your knees threaten to buckle and your thighs shake.

“Let me… Let me call someone,” Izuku stutters, his body flush against yours.

You can feel his heart racing and the muscles in his arms trembling as he holds you. He was so strong. His muscles practically bulge out of his crisp white button up shirt.

“I feel fine,” you murmur, blinking nervously, “Just let me go home, Izuku.”

Your ribs rattle out a wheeze as you press your fingers into the meat of his well toned shoulders. Izuku smells good, really good. The hint of cologne that's melted into his skin and mingled with his sweat and musk lights your body aflame with desire. The urge to reach out and lick the throbbing vein on the side of his neck, getting a closer taste of him and his sweat crosses your mind. It’s frightening how commonplace it feels within your discombobulated thoughts, as if it were meant to be there.

“You’re burning up.”

Whatever else Izuku might have said falls on deaf ears as your brain zeroes in on the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Your lashes flutter and your nails dig into his flesh as you will yourself to calm down. But, he’s hot, dangerously so. Izuku worsens the heat that laps at your belly and your cheeks. You feel as though you cannot breathe, each breath heavy and ragged as he speaks to some far away person over the phone.

“Izuku,” you whine, whatever was to come next spills off of your tongue in a needy little whimper as he presses the palm of his hand to your forehead.

Smoothing his rough hand over the curve of your cheek, he shushes you like a mother does a child, “Shh, you’re alright,” he coos, offering you a soothing caress, “Just remember to breathe, okay?”

Your eyes grow lidded as you lean into his touch. Each soft coo sends your mind deeper and deeper into the hole it's fallen in. The feel of him against you is almost too much for your quickly fading willpower. If not for the tiny, logical voice in the back of your skull screaming to remind you that the two of you were in public, you might’ve reached out to take a bite.

“Okay.”

You can’t remember what you were agreeing to, but the sigh of relief Izuku heaved made the pleasure centre of your brain light up in delight. It’s that measly, weak willed part of your brain that keeps you preoccupied with fantasies as heroes move all around you. Some of their voices are familiar, you think they must have stopped by to speak with your students but they’re not speaking to you. Everything is directed to Izuku who speaks in a harried manner, the worry evident in his tone. It doesn’t match the way he paws at your body or that thing poking at your thighs.

But, it’s his touch that grounds you and keeps you from losing it completely as the two of you are shoved in the back of an ambulance. The blaring sirens do little to keep this situation discreet, like you heard one of the heroes had requested. They’re sitting in the bay with you, their body a sea of orange, black, and green. Their rough, scraggly voice barks out frustrations to Izuku, to the paramedic, to the distant voice who rambles over speakerphone.

You squint at them and their jagged, pointy attire in vague recognition. They must have visited U.A. at some point, heroes were always brought in for some lesson or another.

“Kacchan, I’m fine!” Izuku’s voice squeals, you crane your neck just in time to catch him slapping the hero's hand away, “Their quirk didn’t hit me.”

“You know that's not how emitter quirks work, Deku,” ‘Kacchan’ gruffly barks out, “You’re getting looked at when we get to the hospital, end of discussion.”

“But-”

“End of discussion.”

Izuku wears a sheepish expression, his wide green eyes darting between you and the hero, “I was going to say, they’re quirkless and a civilian,” he says, “I’m worried.”

‘Kacchan’ barks out a laugh, “So are you, Deku.”

“It’s different.”

“Right you’re a special little boy, I forgot,” he sarcastically mutters, “Who somehow is immune to others' quirks, I almost forgot.”

You don’t have to look at Izuku to know he’s rolling his eyes, you could tell by the tone of his voice and the small huff that passes his lips. When his students asked for extensions an hour before the assignment was due, he’d roll his eyes and huff, but he always said yes.

“Yup, that's totally what I meant,” Izuku snips with a frown.

Your languid gaze settles onto his pink, freckled cheeks. His eyes are pointedly fixed to his shoes, shirking away from ‘Kacchan’s’ intense stare. The oxygen mask pinches uncomfortably at the bridge of your nose but your arm is strapped to the gurney, keeping you firmly in place. Izuku spares a quick flit of his eyes over your body before he returns to his avoidance. ‘Kacchan’ leers almost menacingly.

“Stop bein’ such a damn brat,” he barks, gripping Izuku by the chin, “Your face is all red and you’re sweating, this isn’t normal.”

Izuku’s cheeks are a ruddy red and puffed into a pout. His freckles spill out from between the other man's rough, calloused hands. A beat of silence passes between the two of them. It’s suffocating, the tensed air that fills the cramped ambulance bay. You should look away from them but they’re so wrapped up in this silent exchange that they wouldn’t even notice your intrusion. They weren’t noticing your long, tiresome stare or your wide eyes that flit between them.

“Fine.”

Izuku concedes surprisingly quickly.

He squirms in his seat, he must be embarrassed to be bossed around like that. You miss the quiver of his upper lip and the nervous sweat that breaks out on his brow. A low whisper is hissed between the two men, your hazed mind can’t even begin to make out what might’ve been said but it stirs a whimper like sound from your colleague. Wrenching the heroes hand from his face, Izuku sulks with a flush melting down his neck. The other man wears a smug, satisfied smirk— one where the corners of his lips curl upwards

The ambulance halts to a stop, hardly jostling them but it sends your head spinning. You have to squish your eyes shut to keep the ringing in your ears at bay. Somewhere between being pulled into the emergency room and being rushed into a private room, your consciousness fades. When it returns to you, you’re not in the sterile hospital room you imagined you’d be in.

You’re splayed across a plush couch, there’s a chunky knit throw wrapped around your legs and tucked up beneath your chin. The air is musky, filled with something warm and welcoming. It worsens the burn that itches your skin.

“Where am-”

“You’re awake, good,” a familiar voice chirps.

Izuku’s freckled face fills your vision, he wears a strained smile. His cheeks are ruddy and his skin is glistening with sweat. Perching himself on the arm of the sofa, he reaches forward to rest his hand on your ankle. His hand is scarred with rough skin that trailed up to his elbow, a memory of a past lifetime sealed within the confines of his youth. The feel of his skin against yours makes you jolt, skittering away from the explosion of heat that travels up your calf and snakes its way up your thigh.

“Izuku,” you pant, blinking at him as if he were some mirage that might soon disappear, “What happened? Where are we? Why aren’t we at the hospital, I remember being in an ambulance.”

Slinking into the plush cushion beside you, Izuku raises a hand, “Woah, slow down, I can explain.”

“The two of you got hit with a sex pollen quirk,” a gruff voice chimes in, heavy footfalls accompanying them, “End of story.”

“What?”

The hero from before materializes behind Izuku, no longer clad in his hero suit but instead a pair of soft grey sweatpants and a thin black muscle tank top. It’s a stark contrast to the messy suit that hangs off Izuku’s frame and the rumpled sundress you excitedly picked out to wear this morning. The spiked blonde hair and sharp, ruby eyes lined in smudged black were familiar but you couldn’t quite place where you knew him from.

“Kacchan do you always have to be so crass?” Izuku shrieks, “This is why you’re number fifteen because you refuse to use any of the media training we did in school!”

“Is that why I feel so … Funny?”

Your face burns with shame and embarrassment. While ‘Kacchan’ was reticent, the picture of nonchalance as he leaned against the sofa, his chest flush to Izuku’s spine.

“But, why are we here? Why aren’t we at the hospital?”

“There’s nothing they could do to reverse the effect of the quirks,” Izuku murmurs, gently caressing your ankle, “Kacchan offered a private place for us to wait it out.”

“I figured if you were going to fuck to get it out of your system, here was better than your lodgings at U.A.”

A shiver trickles down your spine, forcing you to curl into the corner of the sofa as confusion muddied your mind. ‘Kacchan’ snorted a laugh as you stared off in a mix of horror and confusion, “A sex pollen quirk?” You echoed, speaking to no one but yourself, “I thought those were just a trope in those bodice rippers to sell to lonely moms.”

“Apparently not,” Izuku winced, lightly elbowing his friend, “So now we’re here.”

“We’re here.”

You look around the room like a trapped animal in need of an escape.

“Sorry but, what is your name?” You question, your lips dipping into a frown, “If I’m going to be staying in your home until the quirk wears off, I should know your name.”

“If it wears off,” he mutters, eliciting another elbow to the gut and a shrill call of his name, “Whatever, the name’s Bakugō Katsuki or as you may know me, Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight.”

You nod to show you’ve retained what he just said but the ripple of his muscles as he leaned over to shake your hand distracted you. Izuku bounces anxiously between you, chewing on his lip until the skin cracks and ichor tinges his tongue. The urge to lap it up swirls in your belly and you find yourself reaching forward and grasping at his slacks.

“Get it out of our systems,” you whisper, your mind stuck on Bakugō’s earlier words.

That damned smug smirk creeps onto his face once more, almost as if he was pleased by the situation before him. You had heard in passing of heroes wearing righteousness as a facade and enjoyed certain unsavory situations and chaos just as much as some villains did. You didn't think Izuke would have remained with someone who had such little honour but you could feel the smug satisfaction roll off Bakugō in waves. It was as though he wanted this to happen.

“Mhm,” Izuku all but purred as he leaned closer to you.

Bakugō knotted his fingers into Izuku’s sweat dabbled, unruly curls pushing his head closer to yours until you felt his warm breath fanning across your lips. The hair on the back of your neck stands and your breathing grows laboured. All you could think about since joining the faculty back in April was him, what his tongue may taste like, and if he would moan in your mouth like he did in your dreams. It was wrong of you to want him so bad but your wanton, lust filled mind was begging you to take this chance to have him with no repercussions, and no regrets.

Your rumination came to an end as Bakugō pressed Izuku’s mouth to yours. A puppeteer relishing in his work, he snorts as you eagerly lap at Izuku’s mouth, pawing at his torso with wanton lust. His fingers are quick to tangle in your hair and grip the back of your neck. The feel of his rough, scarred skin against your tender, flush neck makes your body burst out into goosebumps which drives you closer to him in search of warmth in spite of the burning balm that’s settled over you.

Lucidity melts your mind further. The longer you’re awake, shaking off the fog and allowing the adrenaline to settle in, the more your desire grows. It’s spiralled out of control and your body acts without your mind's permission.

“Izuku,” you whimper into his lips, wrinkling his dress shirt between your fists, “Please… Give me more.”

Bakugō roughly pats your head, tussling your hair around as if he were trying to give you a noogie, “Don’t you worry, Deku here is a good boy, he’ll give you what you need.”

Izuku moans into your mouth, his body reacting to his friend's words. His hands tremble as they curl into the nape of your neck. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, lapping at his molars and gums to memorize every inch of his kiss and the way he tastes, if gum or some other thing might cling to his teeth.

“Oh that’s it, atta boy,” Bakugō barks, his rough fingers tug at the roots of your hair as if to guide your tongue further into Izuku’s mouth.

Your eyes flit open on their own accord, perhaps to peer into Bakugō’s. They’re a dark shade of red, his pupils large and imposing as they peer, fixated on the sloppy slip and slide of your tongue against Izuku’s. They press close soon after they meet Bakugō’s for but a moment, forced by the nervous thrum of your heart that rises when he notices your staring.

Izuku notices the stall in your movements and the sloppy slip of your tongue, “Hey,” he coos against your lips, “Are you okay?”

You nod a bit, not minding the way your head knocks into his. You’re all but about to crawl out of your skin. Discomfort and discontent with being watched like a bug pinned beneath a microscope, sharp and calculating eyes dissecting your every move as if they determine your worthiness for his best friend. Oh, but the haze that clouded your mind and soaked through your panties kept you glued to the soft sofa and Izuku’s warm embrace, searching for something to quell the overwhelming, wanton need that choked your delicate throat.

Izuku tosses a spare glance over his shoulder to Bakugō, calculating and sizing the man up, “Kacchan do you mind?” He murmurs, it's less of a request and more of a statement but you’re unsure what it’s meant to mean.

Their eyes catch for a moment, a million words silently pass between them. They speak a language you can’t understand but the incessant throbbing in your cunt keeps the insecurity from eating away at you.

“He can stay if you want,” you whisper, your voice a stranger to your ears.

“Kacchan’s gonna leave,” Izuku’s voice is clipped as his emerald green eyes slide back to gaze into yours, “Isn’t that right?”

The two pause for a moment, a beat passing between them. The weight of their history is heavy in the air, tension palpable. You attempt to squirm away, to put some space between you and Izuku but his calloused hands keep you pinned firmly between him and the sofa. Your clit throbs with need, no amount of discomfort could cloud the fact that you found his strength immensely attractive.

“I was?”

The heat that emanates from between their exchanges burns you. Lapping at the tops of your thighs and licking your belly. You feel it deep within you, the staunch, growing need that’s driving you half mad. Whatever history laid between them, however complicated and rich, mattered not. How could it, when heady desire so thick laid itself over your feeble body?

“You wanna kiss him?” You murmur to neither man in particular, squishing your thighs together to quell the throb.

“No, angel,” Bakugō says, shoving his face over Izuku’s shoulder, “I want to kiss you, to know what you taste like.”

He leers at you in spite of the nervous glance his friend gives him but you pay it no mind. Your ego triples in its size, as does your fervent lust. You may not have cared enough to pay attention to the current hero ranks or the thriving celebrity culture, but you knew well enough to be flattered. Not just because anyone would want to be vied after by an affluent pro hero, but because Bakugō was stunning in his own right. Somewhere in the back of your mind, exists the pieces of him you’ve come across. Though mystified and shrouded by confusion, somewhere, he existed beyond the stretch of this one meeting.

“I know all about Izuku already.”

“Me?” You dumbly point to yourself, as if there were a fourth person in the room that he might have been conversing with.

He nods his head and the glint in his eyes feels predatory. You wither under his stare, fawning to him like a prey animal.

“Okay.”

The word is whispered and you have a feeling no matter what you said in that moment, it’d end with your mouth on his.

Bakugō’s body all but engulf’s Izuku’s frame. You had thought before that Izuku was large with well cared for muscles and thigh shoulders but his friend made him look small in comparison. With only a few extra inches of height to his name, Bakugō was big and burly, with muscles that tapered off into a surprisingly trim waist.

Izuku pouted as he was pressed in between the two of you, his neck bared as he cocked his head to the side to allow Bakugō some room, “Don’t be like that Deku,” he rasps against the shell of his ear, “You knew how I felt about them.”

The confession hangs heavily in the air but it doesn’t linger long. Bakugō presses a balmy, open mouthed kiss to Izuku’s jugular, the light highlighting the glint of his teeth as the nip at his freckled skin. A moan melts off Izuku’s tongue and that seems to satisfy both men. Bakugō crowds into your space, his nudge nudging yours.

You languidly blink at him, waiting for him to take what he wants. His rough, calloused fingers grasp the tip of your chin, his warm breath fanning across your lips. You find yourself leaning in, your lips brushing his, a small coquettish whimper sticking to the back of your throat.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to know what you taste like,” his voice is surprisingly soft, it makes your heart skip a beat.

Bakugō takes his time with kissing you, as if he knows the moment this quirk wears off the only pieces of you he’d get to have are short glimpses in the halls of U.A. He smells of sweat and ash, tastes like a hot cinnamon heart candy. That must have been the flavour of gum he was chewing on in the ambulance. His tongue laps at your gums and flick over your molars as if searching for all the hidden pieces of yourself. If intimacy lay in the knowledge of one's body, Bakugō was skipping all the pretext that comes before such closeness. He kissed you like the two of you had been simmering on low for years, a shared heat enveloping you. Maybe those months felt like years for him as you only had eyes for Izuku.

You’re unsure who you touch as your hands explore the expanse of clothed shoulders and biceps. The tickle of hair brushes your skin but the dizzying warmth shrouds your ability to discern the who and the wear. Both men were all over you, all at once. Izuku, nuzzling himself into you, sweet kisses pressed to your collarbones and sternum. He stroked the side of your abdomen, sneaking his fingers beneath your dress shirt. This morning, you had woken up extra early to iron your shirt in the hopes of looking nice. The fabric was now crumpled and soaked with sweat, the cuffs dabbled with blood from when you fell.

Bakugō’s lips are red and kiss bitten when he pulls away, swiping his thumb along the length of his bottom lip, he grins at you, satisfied with himself.

With a whine, you roll your hips against Izuku, searching for stimulation.

“What’s wrong?” He coos, his brow furrowed as he cups his cheek.

A haggard breath leaves your chest, “I’m so hot,” you all but squeal, “And needy it, I need you Izuku please.”

“You heard them, they need you, Deku.”

Izuku freeze’s for a moment, his face flush and hot. If he had some sort of emitter quirk you’re sure he’d be spitting flames from his cheeks, “Need me where, sweetheart?”

Cupping his hand with your own, you guide it between your legs. The thick tweed fabric of your slacks is uncomfortably wet with your arousal. The press of his hand to your cunt feels near euphoric, you can’t help the wanton moan you release. Izuku needs no further instruction as he flicks open the top button of your pants and begins to peel them down your hips. Your underwear is pulled down your thighs and bunched up, tossed somewhere in the living room with your socks and shoes.

Izuku moans when your spread your legs to give him space, his bottom lip squished between his teeth, “Fuck, your so…” He trails off, blinking a bit.

“Your cunt is perfect,” Bakugō finishes for him, sprawling across Izuku’s shoulders.

Bakugō roughly gropes Izuku’s erection through his dress pants, his free hand threads itself in his unruly green hair and pushes his head towards your throbbing cunt. Your eyes roll into your skull when the tip of his nose brushes against your aching clit. Your fingers tangle with Bakugō’s as you grip the roots of Izuku’s hair.

“Please,” you beg, twitching your hips upwards, “Lick my pussy, please Izu’.”

Izuku makes for an obedient puppy. In another life, one without such ambition, he might’ve made a good soldier with how well he took orders from you. His tongue lolled out to kitten lick your cunt, his green eyes peering up at you in concern. They shut quickly as he loses himself in your taste, groaning into you as he slurps up every last drop of your thick, sticky arousal that gushes from your cunt.

Bakugō wastes no time in unbuckling Izuku’s belt, pushing his pants and briefs down his thigh. Your mouth grows dry at the sight of his cock, heavy, hairy, and twitching with need. Precum drips from the ruddy tip onto the fuzzy carpet but neither man pays no mind. His wrist snaps as he gives Izuku’s cock a languid stroke. The groans of pleasure are swallowed up by your pussy, the vibrations from his vocal chords making your head spin. The muscles in your tummy are pulled taunt as they’re wound up. The tension that settles in your shoulders threatens to tear you apart.

Your orgasm washes over you with a startling quickness but it isn’t enough. Your nails dig into Izuku’s scalp as you keep his mouth pressed to your cunt even if he’s choking on your squirt. It drips down the leather cushions of the sofa and it squeaks obnoxiously as your skin slides against it. Bakugō pulls Izuku closer to him by the hips, bringing you with him. His sweatpants are bunched around his hips, pulled down just enough for dick to sit over the waist band. Unlike Izuku’s thick, curly bush and freckled pelvis, Bakugō’s pale blond pubes blend in with his skin but you can tell that he’s kept it trim. Trickling from beneath his belly button, his sparse happy trail guides your eyes to his cock. It’s thin and long with a bruised bulbous tip that leaks when he gives it a firm squeeze at the base.

With lidded eyes, you watch with intrigue when Bakugō spits on Izuku’s ass, rubbing it around his asshole with his thumb.

“Katsuki…” Izuku murmurs from between your thighs, “Are you gonna…?”

Bakugō silences him by pushing his mouth back into your cunt and like the obedient little runt he is, he latches his lips to your clit. Pressing the tip of his dick to Izuku’s eager hole, Bakugō stifles a grunt behind a wicked grin. It’s difficult to focus on one thing and how can you, when Izuku’s thick fingers prod at your weeping hole and he’s moaning like a whore with tears in his eyes as Bakugō splits him in half with not a moment of reprieve. It's sloppy, the way Izuku fingers your cunt, slick and squirt squelching loudly like an erotic symphony.

“Come on now, don’t slow down now” Bakugō chides, the hem of his muscle tank inching up his stomach as he snaps his hips into Izuku, “Be good now and put your mouth to use.”

Somewhere in the alphabet soup of your pleasure addled mind, you manage to string together a sentence, “You’re so mean to him,” you whine, writhing in Izuku’s hold, “Izu is so nice an’ he smells like sage.”

“He likes it,” he chuckles, leaning over Izuku’s back to peck your lips, “Would you rather I be mean to you?”

You try to shake your head but another orgasm hits you and you’re forced to gulp down a few breaths before you can attempt to speak. The two men call your name in synchronized echoes like hymns of worship bouncing off stone temple walls.

“No, just play nice with us.”

Izuku’s nails bite into the fat of your hips as he uses you for stability, his head bobbing like he’s brainless, “Shh, it’s okay sweetheart,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on your hip, “Kacchan is all bark.”

His chin is shiny with your spend, it’s dripped down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. Your body prickles with shame but it’s nothing in comparison to the snarly beast of want that claws at your chest, begging for more than just fingers and tongue.

“I wish he’d bite me instead.”

The two laugh, there’s a knowing look again, that look in the eye that makes your eyes flit away from the intensity, “I do if asked nicely.”

Blood prickles at the surface of your skin when Bakugō picks up the pace, roughly slamming his cock into Izuku’s poor battered hole. You’re almost mesmerized how his cock flops uselessly against his tummy with each deep thrust. His nails leave raised streaks in your skin that stirs something exciting in your chest. Your name is said like a prayer as Izuku cums, his cock twitching as his cum pools atop the carpet.

Somehow, Izuku’s cock becomes even stiffer, standing to attention in search of the warmth of human touch. Bakugō kisses the nape of his neck, whispering something to Izuku as he buries his cock into his ass.

“Sweetheart, can I…. I want to… no,” Izuku starts and stops himself like he’s talking to his boss. Beating around the push, unsure of how to make his request palatable, “Can I please fuck you?”

The soft, nervous lilt of his voice makes your cunt throb, you nod before you can choke out a “Yes,” breathed and painted with excitement, “Yes please, please I need you inside of me.”

Untangling himself from Bakugō’s reach, Izuku pushes you deep into the plush of the sofa. He wears a timid smile that threatens on wild. The apples of his cheeks are flush, you can’t help but reach up to pinch them, your thumb smoothing along his scar dappled skin. Pushing some of your sweat damp hair away from your forehead, Izuku settles between your thighs.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” he whispers to you like he’s confessing a secret, giddy and drunk off the feeling, “How are you so pretty, so perfect?”

His question goes unanswered because he presses the slick tip of his cock to your cunt, sliding it between your sticky folds, “Hurry up!” You bark, simpering when you realize the tone of your voice is scarily demanding and petulant, “I can’t wait any longer, please.”

Caressing the side of your face, Izuku coos at you a soft apology with a kiss to placate your nerves. He’s far slower than Bakugō, who paid no mind to taking his time in stretching Izuku out. The fat head of his cock presses inside your pulsing hole and sits there for a moment as your chest heaves from the mind numbing stretch. Bakugō saunters around the other side of the sofa standing where your head hangs off the arm. His dick stares directly at you, a taunting treat that is just begging for you to take a bite.

Your jaw falls slack and your tongue follows suit. Izuku takes it as an invitation to kiss you, clumsily like it was his first. He’s eager and all over you, the snap of his hips jaggad and haggard.

“So pretty,” he whispers into your waiting lips, “I can’t believe I get to fuck you, I like you so much.”

You think you hear Bakugō chuckle. If he does, it's hidden but the wet squelch of his cock as he fists it over your faces. Either way, you’re too distracted by the operative word Izuku uses, “like”, you wanted it to be love. It’d only been a few months since you met him but you think you might’ve loved him the moment you laid eyes on him. You wanted him to love you too, to want more than just fevered kisses in the midst of an aphrodisiac fueled bacchanal. But that was asking too much, you wanted too much. You were greedy and wrought with selfish desire. And you couldn’t breathe.

Pulling at the buttons of your dress shirt, your pluck at the fabric until it gives way. The tepid air feels heavenly on your sweat slick skin for but a moment before you’re shrouded by the heat of two bodies. Bakugō slots his cock between your two open mouths and you suckle on the long throbbing vein to pacify your bleeding heart. Izuku’s tongue slides against yours, laving over Bakugō’s length as he pumps into you.

Warmth spreads in your abdomen and spills down your thighs. It bites at the edge of your vision, stars and bits of black swimming along until your consciousness fades. Sleep greets you like an old friend. It cradles your head and swaddles you in a cocoon of comfort. Your anxieties and that horrid pit in your stomach fade away with the sweet dreams that visit you.

You’re unsure how long you slumbered for but when you awake, the room was bathed in the golden glow of morning. There’s a grey duvet tucked up to your chin, it smells of laundry detergent and musk. Your bare body is battered, sore to the bone with bruises littering your thighs and hips. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you survey the room. It’s barren and hardly lived in, if it weren’t for the pile of clothes hanging off the wicker basket hamper in the corner of the room.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Izuku’s cheerful voice rings out, he peers around the doorway with a tray of food, “How are you feeling?”

Your throat is dry, the words stick to the sides of your esophagus, “I feel…” You rasp, shaking your head, “Fine, how are you?”

Izuku offers you a smile, “I’m alright,” he offers you the tray, there’s a glass of water and a bottle of Advil, “Here, you should drink up.”

When you make no movement to grab the glass, Izuku plucks two pills from the bottle and brings the water towards your lips. Pressing the medication to your mouth, you swallow it down with his quiet instruction. He coos small praises into your ear, the way he does with his students. Your stomach flips with nerves as flashes of yesterday come rushing back.

Before you can speak the ensuite door flies open, a plume of steam coming with it. Bakugō stands in the doorway in nothing but a pair of loose gym shorts, toweling off his short spiky hair.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Kacchan!”

Silence fills the space uncomfortably.

“Did you tell them yet?” Bakugō says, nodding towards you.

“Tell me what?” Your kiss bitten lips ache but you chew on them anyways.

Izuku shakes his head, “No,” he mutters, “They just woke up.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Bakugō huffs through his nose, his gaze cutting through you as he pins down Izuku with his eyes,“They deserve to know.”

“To know what?” Anxiety bubbles in your belly. The pills that sit at the back of your throat threaten to make a reappearance. Blood coats your tongue as you split the skin of your lips. You think you know what they might say. It was all a mistake, likened to a drunken affair between a married man and a spring flower, decades younger, still in bloom.

“That we both have feelings for you.”

Oh.

And suddenly, those pesky wants of yours didn’t feel so far away. You didn’t feel so hard to love or desire. But, the thought of it stole your breath. It prickled you with anxiety and fears akin to not enough.

All you could say was, “Oh.”

Because whatever you felt for Izuku had no name and if it did, you weren’t sure such a word existed in Japanese nor English. And Bakugō, the guilt crept up for all the things you didn’t feel or couldn’t. Maybe you did feel something, not flattery but something concrete that pushed its way through the thick heat of desire that made you act so foolishly. You thought maybe he was just stroking your ego, that wanton lust to know the taste if another could be just that, lust. No feelings that were any deeper than a kiddy pool.

One of them calls your name, but it all sounds like static.

“And here I thought it was all in my head.”

And maybe it was. Maybe you were still dreaming.

You think that might be it until Izuku surges forward to kiss you long and hard. Your head is filled with the same intoxicating rush. The quirk must not have been as strong as you thought after all.

#bnha smut #izuku x reader #bakugou x reader #izuku smut #bakugo smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #izuku midoria x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #᭄᭡⠀written word

334 notes · View notes

slayfics · 1 year ago

Text

Late night texting with Eijiro.

Warnings: Eijiro aged up | NSFW themes

Eijiro tossed and turned in bed unable to drift to sleep with the memories of today's spar plaguing his mind. He had been rougher with you than he intended to today and he couldn't help but feel guilty.

Giving in to his worry Eijiro grabbed his phone and decided to message you.

Hey, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about today's spar. I didn't intend to be so rough. I hope you're alright.

You responded to him almost right away,

Kirishima it's late you should be asleep!

I couldn't help it! I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok.

I'm fine, no need to worry. Look, it isn't even that bad.

You texted and sent over a picture of your injuries from the spar. Eijiro felt his breath catch in his throat as soon as his eyes focused on the image.

You were lying in bed and had pulled your shirt up to show the injuries to your abdomen left from the spar.

He knew you were just trying to ease his mind by showing him the injuries weren't anything to worry about, but he couldn't help his mouth from falling open and his cheeks warmed by an excited blush.

The image showcased your body so perfectly lying delicately in bed. Eijiro couldn't look away from it as badly as he wanted to. This isn't manly at all. He thought as he found himself excited by a picture of your bruised body. Even still knowing it was wrong, his grip tightened on his phone and his heart rate increased the longer he stared.

Just as his hormones shot him nefarious thoughts causing his member to enlarge, you messaged him again.

Hello? You fall asleep on me Kiri?

Fuck, he typed out a response fast.

I'm still up! I guess it's not too bad, but I'm still sorry!

Stop apologizing! Besides, I got you pretty good too right?

Yeah, you did! You did amazing today!

Alright, let's see it then!

Eijiro felt himself freeze for a second time tonight. You- You wanted a picture of him? Eijiro shook all crude thoughts out of his mind. Don't be a perv, he told himself. You were just wanting to make sure his injuries weren't bad.

Eijiro must have been contemplating the meaning of your request for longer than he thought because you texted him again.

Unless you feel uncomfortable then it's totally fine you don't have to!

No no, it's fine! Give me a second!

Eijiro jumped out of bed panicking. You wanted a picture of him! He looked around his room and clumsily stumbled into the restroom deciding that was the best place to do it.

Ok ok, you can do this, he thought trying to hype himself up. Besides he is usually shirtless in his hero costume right? But for some reason, this felt so different. Eijiro struggled to keep his hands from shaking as he ripped off his shirt and nervously took selfies in front of the mirror.

What the hell am I doing, he second-guessed himself as he scrolled through the pictures he took deciding on the best one. Finally settling on one he nervously pressed the send button.

Your response came in minutes but felt like ages as he shakingly waited. Did he show too much skin, he wondered? He hoped his picture didn't look too suggestive. But you asked for one right? So it's fine, he thought, trying to ease himself.

Eijiro's eyes snapped to his phone as soon as it buzzed with a response from you.

Damn.

Was all your message said.

Damn, what?! He thought, running his hands over his face. Maybe you meant his injuries? Of course, right? That is what you two were talking about.

Yeah, you got me pretty good, but don't worry I'm alright!

He responded, commenting on the darkened bruises on his own abdomen that you had given him.

Not the injuries silly. You. You look good.

Eijiro's face burnt red hot reading your message. Do you really think he looked good? Was that the real reason you had asked him for a picture? Were the injuries just an excuse to ask, he wondered.

You look good too.

He typed and sent before thinking, panic caused him to quickly send a follow-up text.

Oh man, that sounded so pervy I'm sorry! I didn't mean for that to be weird or anything!

However, you didn't respond to Eijiro with a text but with another picture instead. This one was more provocative than the last showcasing even more of your body.

Eijiro suddenly felt his sweats become tighter as his excitement grew at the revelation that you were doing this on purpose. You wanted him to look at you with lustful eyes.

Yet again, Eijiro found himself staring too long causing you to send him a follow-up text.

Don't be rude, send one back.

Eijiro dabbed at the blood beginning to leak from his nose, as he realized: this was going to be a long night.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @maddietries

2K notes · View notes

little-miss-fandom-freak · 1 month ago

Note

This isn't a request or anything I just had a funny thought but like, imagine if the Justice League finally got evidence that Y/N is innocent, and they tried to visit but Phosphorus is just. Booing and throwing trash at the League members. Y/N may join in also. Bonding time 🩷

Okay I know I need to be working on my other asks but I LOVE THIS

Dr. Phosphorus X Former Hero!Reader Pt 2.

Little note: I did want this to end on a happier note and I found it hard to be mad at Superman lol

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

You didn't understand why Superman and Batman were here in Belle Reve. You had assumed it was for some meeting with Waller until one of the guards approached you and your team.

"C'mon," She said as she lifted your shoulder, "you got visitors."

You looked around, completely confused. "Visitors? Who would be visiting me?" The guard didn't respond as she pulled you away from the table and put your hands in cuffs. He tried to shrug them off, determined to stay with you. You gave him a stern look, one that said 'don't do anything that will get you in trouble'. He sighed as he took a step back, letting the guards take you out to the courtyard.

You were shocked to find out that your former teammates were the visitors. You tried to dig your heels into the concrete, causing the gurads to struggle as they dragged you to them. "I have nothing to say to you two!" You yelled from across the courtyard.

They gave each other a look before Superman took a step forward. "Lose the cuffs, guys. She's won't do anything."

The guards looked to Waller for confirmation. She nodded, giving them permission to take the tight handcuffs off. You rubbed your wrist as the two approached you. "Leave me alone, Superman." You said with spite

"Look..." He started, clearly trying to find the right words to say. "I know there's no taking back everything that's happened these past few years, but I hope you understand why we did it."

"You mean how the whole team left me to rot in a cell, not even showing up for my trials!" You yelled.

"We wanted to, but it wasn't a good time. For any of it. You have to believe us." He pleaded.

"Why should I? It's not like you believed a word I said!" You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm yourself. "I hope you two didn't come all the way out here just to apologize and think I'll forgive you, cause there's no way in hell-"

"The court has decided to give you bail." Batman said, stopping you mid rant.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing right now. "Give me bail? Why?"

"While you were locked up, things changed. New laws were made, old ones were fixed, and your lawyer found new evidence to support your case. If you choose to go to trail and plead not guilty, there's a chance you'll make bail. And I would be happy to pay it, if you promise to return to the Justice League."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Back in the rec room, Phosphorus was standing on top of one of the tables that he had pushed against the wall, trying to get a view of what was going on outside. Nina and Bride had joined him; for Nina it was out of concern, for Bride it was simply because she was bored.

"What are they saying?" He mumbled, his grip on the bars tightening as he tried to listen.

"It has to be something about her case." Said Bride. "With how long she's been in here, and not a single visit before, there must've been a change."

Phosphorus didn't know how to take that. Was there more that you didn't tell him? Were more years added to your sentence? Are you getting transferred? Or worse, did they find you innocent?

The Bride side glanced at Phosphorus, a knowing smirk graced her lips. "You know, you're really bad at pretending you're not the "jealous boyfriend" type."

His head whipped around in her direction, his flames rose but she couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

"I-I just- you- just-just shut up!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You thought for a moment, you weren't quite sure how to respond. "If I come back, I want a few things."

Batman scoffed. "Do you really think you're in the position to be negotiating?"

"I'll have you know, prison life hasn't been all that bad for me." You said with sass as your crossed your arms. "Once I got over the feeling of betrayal, I actually formed relationships with the inmates."

"Really?" Superman cringed at the thought. "But they're murderers-"

"At least they know loyalty."

"Barely." Batman shot back.

You gritted your teeth. "Task Force M has showed more loyalty to me than any if the Justuce League. I'm am perfectly fine with staying in here, you're the ones who want me back. So, do we have a deal?"

Batman glared at you before he made up his mind. "What do you want?"

You tense shoulders relaxed slightly. "My team, I want to be able to see them while I'm out. Not just visitation hours, I want them out of Belle Reve when I see them."

Superman and Batman looked at each other, before Batman looked to Waller. She shrugged. "Task Force M has been more well behaved than usual. If they can keep it up, I'm sure I can arrange something."

You nodded to Waller, silently thanking her for her cooperation. You turned back to the men in front of you. "Looks like I'm back."

A wide smile filled Suoerman's face. He rushed to you a scooped you up into a hug. "You have no idea how hard it was not to visut you, but we were under so much fire at the time. The governmentthought it would be safer if we temporarilydropped connections. "

You embraced the hug, realizing how much you actually missed your old team. Suddenly, you heard muffled yelling coming from across the courtyard. Looking to your left, you saw Phosphorus yelling something you couldn't hear but Superman could.

"Um, why is the glowing skeleton yelling at me to get my hands off of you?" He asked, clearly concerned.

You chuckled. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Suddenly, several peices of trash came flying your way. Well, not exactly flying. They hit the ground several feet away from the three of you, but the action was enough to make the guards inside tackle your partner.

With a sigh, you removed yourself from the hug. "We should head back in."

As Waller and the guards led you all back inside, Batman came up beside you.

"Phosphorus? Really?"

You smiled slightly as you shrugged. "What can I say, he's got charm."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, it's called radiation. I don't think he's good for you-"

"Don't go all dad-mode on me Bats, we're still the same age remember?"

He scoffed. "And yet you're the one making juvenile dating choices."

"Uh huh, and how's it going with Selena?" You said with a shit-eating grin. He was quiet for a few moments.

"Fair point." He said, causing you to let out a laugh. As much as you hated them, and how long it will be before eyour relationships are repaired, you couldn't deny that you missed moments like this.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I hope you enjoyed this and if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

#creature commandos x reader #dc comics x reader #dr phosphorus x reader #doctor phosphorus x reader #dc comics #fanfic #creature commandos #dr phosphorus #doctor phosphorus #batman #superman #bruce wayne #clark kent

366 notes · View notes

sh4rk-k1d · 29 days ago

Text

The Curious

This is my first ever fic so I'm open to any advice or criticism you guys have to offer!

It was cool and dark, a perfect night really. Families and pets asleep, the moon was shining brightly.

It was perfect.

For everyone except the infamous crime fighting duo, Batman and Robin who were out in the shadows, beating criminals, stopping muggers, the typical crime-stopping business they do every night, except there was one thing different this night...for a few nights now. This time there was a screech, a loud excruciating, deafening screech, something new had been appearing for the past few years, just a few years after the wealthy and philanthropic businessman Bruce Wayne was born, these cryptid creatures that seem to have come out of nowhere, and they came hungry and violent, the Justice League has tried as much as possible to get rid of these creatures, kill them even but they never could.

People should have been afraid, should have feared these seemingly demonic creatures, but they weren't because they had superheroes! They must have been safe right? Thats what these heroes told them anyways, that they had nothing to fear, that they were here to help, to save, save them, keep them alive.

But as the number of deaths kept increasing, people in Gotham and Metropolis felt fear that their heroes couldn’t keep them safe anymore.

But with these new creatures from hell-spawned, so did a new savior, a child, born in a low-income hospital, and then there were more, more children with an abnormal ability to transform into weapons, others able to form a soul-bond with these weapon children, able to wield them perfectly, almost as if they were created for each other, and each other only, when people found out about these children, naturally they were afraid of what they were capable of, but that fear soon turned into hopefulness when two of the children were able to fully kill one of these creatures.

Then came the academy, once people found out about these unique children, good and bad came naturally, some wanted to praise the children for protecting them, others wanted them gone thinking the now known “Soul Eaters” creatures came because of them, then there were another group of people who wanted to dissect them.

So, the “Death Weapon Meister Academy” was formed, a “safe haven” so to speak, a place where the children wouldn’t have to worry about being hated and hunted by the world, a place where they could learn to use their abilities without fear of hurting others, and a place where they would be surrounded by people who could understand them, the academy is also the most secluded and mysterious organization to ever be formed, the Superman himself couldn’t even try to break in or hear and see inside if he wanted too, why? Hell he doesn’t even know, but what they do know is that once you go in, there's no going out unless you get sent on a mission, everyone knows that if you birth a weapon or meister child then the academy will know, another mystery, how they always find a weapon, or a meister child, these children come as partners, two or three, they come to give their assistance then they leave, somehow they wear no mask yet no one has ever seen their face, too busy escaping the creatures that was originally trying to eat them probably, even if you do stay, it won't be awake, these children are trained to knock you out to stay out of the way.

Bruce Wayne was part of the “dissecting” people, he didn't want to harm the children, really, he didn’t, but it was a human instinct to fear or study the worlds mysteries, Bruce has seen many metas in his life, hell he had, Duke Thomas, as part of his family, but nothing like these kids, no, these children were something else, something else entirely, something that caught his attention, naturally his children must have seen these meta kids, and well, form a need to study them too, not like there was much to study though, no information about these kids made it out of the safety of the academy, yet they tried, and failed.

Failure.

Something that didn't stop at figuring out about the mystery on the inside of the academy, but inside their very own house.

Because there was you, yes you. Poor little innocent, neglected, ignored, you.

You.

What a curious person you are, had lived in a house full of detective vigilantes, yet they didn’t see that there was something different about you, something...abnormal.

Well, you couldn’t blame them could you? They were busy! Too busy to pay you attention for the last two..three...eight years? They were out doing vigilante stuff!...so you can't be that mad that they didn’t see how your leg lit up in the dead of night and then transformed into a....blade? And, as you sit on the floor, eyes blown wide, heart beating a mile a minute, breathing rapidly until your lungs felt as if they were about to burst, your hands gripping the floor till your nails bled.

You felt, truly, Alive.

#yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #damien wayne #batman x reader #jason todd #yapping #dick grayson #yandere x reader #soul eater #tim drake #duke thomas

167 notes · View notes

save-the-villainous-cat · 1 month ago

Note

hurt comfort of a villain with abandonment issues x a hero who comforts and helps them

“Should you be looking at me like that?” the villain whispered with two of their delicate fingers holding up the hero’s chin. Their lips brushed the hero’s jawline sweetly, but the hero didn’t swallow the bait.

“Should you be moving your arm?” the hero asked back and the villain nearly mistook their concern for actual frustration. Without a second thought, the hero tightened the sling around the villain’s neck and glared.

Of course it hurt. Every move hurt. The villain’s clavicle was very far away from being healthy but they couldn’t help it. Being close to the hero was like a drug.

When they were with them, they couldn’t think properly. They couldn’t make rational decisions. They couldn’t concentrate on the pain.

It was like the hero was a saint who’d been sent to the villain. Their own personal caretaker, their own savior. That was obviously ludicrous. Attaching themselves to the hero was one of their greatest failures in life - after all this was about the both of them and power. It had nothing to do with personal feelings and it didn't leave room for any kind of personal relationship. Not the kind the villain craved, at least.

"Do I have to remind you that you shouldn't help the enemy?"

"You think you are my enemy?" the hero asked.

"Your agency thinks that."

The hero scoffed.

"Do I look like I care much about them?"

"You're so grumpy today," the villain whispered. Immediately, the hero's gaze softened.

"I'm sorry, I…I was worried. Am. I am worried about you. I want you to heal." The hero took another look at the villain's shoulder, then at their arm. The villain could tell they were tired.

"I never meant to make you worry. Please, if I am troubling you or-"

"You are not," the hero said. They looked up at the villain and smiled softly. "I am not really sure where this is leading to. I am thinking too much."

"What do you mean?" The villain could feel their cheeks heat up. It must have been too much for the hero. Too close. Too intimate. The villain could tell their enemy was going to leave, it was only rational - they had licked each other's wounds, had even shared a kiss. It was only a matter of time.

They couldn't breathe.

They couldn't think.

They weren't really anyone without the hero, were they? They wanted to throw up.

"I can change," they said quickly. "I promise, I can change for you."

The hero frowned.

"Huh?"

"I…" The villain heard their own heartbeat. "I mean it, whatever you want, I can give up the whole criminal thing, I will stop being so lazy, I promise I can do more, I can change for you."

They felt like throwing up. Why was this always happening to them? Were they really this rotten creature no one could stand? Were they really this horrible human being?

They knew they had made mistakes in the past and they knew being a criminal was not exactly…noble. But it paid the bills.

God, was the villain really such a nightmare? Nightmarish enough to be brought back to the orphanage over and over again, disgusting enough to be left to die, horrible enough to be betrayed.

"Okay, listen." The hero's eyes were wide, attentive. They pressed their right hand against the villain's chest, right where their heart was. The other found a place on the villain's torso. "I am not going anywhere. What I meant is that I am not sure how our relationship is developing. I don't want us to tiptoe around each other. I want us to be together."

The villain stared at them, their own eyes widening. They blinked.

"You can be so blunt…"

"You love that about me, don't you?" The hero pressed a soft kiss to their jaw and the villain's heart started to calm down gently. The hero really was a saint. So easily. They did it so easily. "Come on, I'll make breakfast and you rest some more."

#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #grumpy hero #h/c

192 notes · View notes

minkoq · 1 month ago

Text

🍓 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

Signed with Love

iida tenya; secretary! fem! reader (pro hero au)

warnings: sfw, pre-relationship, angst, mentions of alcohol, lowkey simp y/n

part 5 — signed with love; masterlist

your eyes scanned the room as you waited patiently for iida to arrive, the rest of your colleagues were drinking and laughing loudly in the small but homey restaurant. in front of you was a barley touched glass of beer, you weren't a big drinker but you have a hard time saying no, so you just smiled and nodded when someone poured you a glass.

you looked towards the empty seat beside you, you swallowed your spit. insecurities and even some anxiety bubbled up, after the recent events with your boss you grew distant with him. iida and your relationship slowly disappeared into an unknown fog, you wanted to reach out and help him loosen up. that this relationship is okay to have, and that he shouldn't be so strict with himself.

a gentle sigh left your lips, you hoped that the kiss wasn't a one time thing. that you could feel him soft lips against yours once more, how he held your face so delicately. like you might break if he put any pressure on you, but the shock in his eyes once he pulled away. the way he took his jacket and just walked out your door, a cloud of emotions were raging in your head. was it you?

you were taken out of your complex thoughts when you heard loud laughter, your colleagues giggling and cheering quietly when they saw iida walk in through the door. your eyes were on him immediately, watching him bow politely, how he straightend his back as his eyes traced over the many faces, until he landed on yours.

iida coughed awkwardly as you two made eye contact, he brushed a hand through his dark blue hair. you waved him over gently while pointing at the chair that was empty beside you, he nodded and came over to you. on the way he was stopped by some of your co-workers but continued to his seat. he was tense, so were you.

he gave you a soft bow and sat down beside you, you smiled and bowed back gently. "congratulations on the mission," you praised him quietly, iida looked at you and nodded. "thank you, it wouldn't have been possible without your help." you grinned to yourself, he was always so humble.

your eyes traced over his form, how his white dress shirt squeezed around his beefy biceps, how his sleeves were rolled up perfectly to reveal his veins on his arms. you gulped gently, an awkward silence fell over you two. the mingling of the rest of the restaurant dropped into the background, your eyes met but you cut off the eye contact and took a sip of your beer. you hated the taste, but anything would help to escape this situation.

"i didn't think you'd come," you spoke out truthfully and looked back at him, he coughed awkwardly and pushed his glasses back up. you could see how he tried to find the words, "i.. thought you didn't want to see me." he said sheepishly while scratching the back of his head.

you mouth hung open, your heart pounding heavily against your ribcage at his words. they made you ache. "it's still a dinner with the agency, you should attend them. no need to take my feelings into consideration." you rambled out as your face heated up, suddenly you felt the hot lights on your face. the laughter growing louder in your ears, you needed a small break.

"how could i not take your feelings into consideration?" he asked, you could hear the genuine shock in his voice. it made your heart ache once more, he was such a polite and soft man, and this relationship was taboo. at least to iida.

you felt your throat closen up, you got up softly. "excuse me for a second," you needed fresh air immediately, this restaurant grew so small on you, your head reeling with heavy thoughts. iida's longing gaze was crushing on your back as you walked towards the exit.

you took a deep breath in of the crisp air, shit, you forgot your jacket inside. you walked a few feet over to a small alley, leaning against the wall and looking down at your feet. were you being too greedy? to just want iida all to yourself? you knew no other woman would appreciate him like you would.

"sorry for making you uncomfortable." his voice cut out the silence, he leaned against the wall of the alley. "iida, you didn't make me uncomfortable." you reassured him quickly and eyed him shyly, "didn't i tell you to call me tenya?" he chuckled out, was.. was he teasing you?

he walked closer and smiled down at you, did he suddenly have a change of heart? he seemed almost cunning, "yeah," you nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. "so why don't you call me that?" as much as he tried to be flirty the soft blush on his cheeks figures him out immediately, he was just trying to flirt. but it worked.

"tenya." you whispered out into the cold air, he saw you shivering. he frowned and leaned in closer to you, his strong hands found itself on your jaw to lift up your chin, you gripped onto his forearms as you looked up at him.

he leaned in and finally, connected his lips to yours again. the kiss felt longing, like he waited for this. he has suppressed his feelings for you for long enough, maybe he should calm down for once, take a breath of fresh air and just be with you.

you closed your eyes and kissed him back, the wet smacking of your lips against eachother made your knees buckle. one arm wrapped itself around your waist as iida pushed you into the wall softly. his other arm was above your head as you two continued kissing.

his tongue slipped into your mouth and that was the moment when you pulled away. "tenya, this.. you.." his breath fanned over your face as he adjusted his glasses on his nose, your soft stutters made him smile. "i'll wait for you inside."

#bnha x female reader #mha x female reader #female reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #tenya iida x reader #iida tenya x reader #bnha smau #mha smau #tenya iida

196 notes · View notes

3mcwriting · 2 months ago

Text

three simple words

soft!bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

tw: cursing, blood, pain (not too much? also it has a happy ending dw)

It took him two years to figure out.

In the midst of the villain attacks, the war, and general chaos of his first year at UA, Bakugou Katsuki was focused on conflicts just slightly more important than whatever stupid fucking feelings and stupid shitty butterflies kept invading whenever you smiled in his direction.

So yeah, he didn't realize in his first year.

Even when you sat with him, silent and still, as he raged, as he screamed into the night sky, and eventually, as he grieved that the world's greatest Hero was gone, gone, gone--and it was his fault--even then, he did not realize.

He knew you cared.

You had never bothered to hide it.

But when you said good night to him that night, looking moments away from hugging him and dammit, why did you look so upset?, he was the one to reach out.

It was impulsive and sentimental and fucking embarrassing--but he didn't regret it. Not when you wrapped your arms around him, not when you whispered something akin to "I got you, Katsuki" despite the fact that you were just some shitty extra, what made you think you could call him Katsuki? Who were you to say something so sentimental and mushy to him?

But he did not regret it the next day when he saw you and you smiled at him.

The year went by, the villains came and went, the scars piled up.

His classmates had aged in that time, in those months of fear, of chaos, of loss, and of pain.

You did not grow closer.

Bakugou spoke with you only twice in that year outside of the heat of battle. Sure, there was always an acknowledgement of his presence when you saw him, but for the most part, you kept to yourself.

But time passed, and that night where you held him while his world fell apart began to fade, softly, slowly, like a dream from his childhood. Even if some days he looked at you and swore that his stupid heart had fucking stopped, he didn't speak with you again.

Not until you almost died for him, that is.

It was a big fight. He couldn't remember much of that day, one of his classmates telling him that it could have been because of the trauma. That his mind was trying not to remember what happened to protect him.

He scoffed when he heard it.

Trauma? Protect him?

Bakugou Katsuki was stronger than all of that.

But even as he scoffed at such words, he knew something had happened.

Yes, he didn't remember much of that day, but he remembered how it ended.

He remembered the way you looked as you were dying.

He remembered the blood, the pain, all of it.

And most of all, he remembered that stupid smile you had on your lips, glistening like a ruby with the blood that was falling from them.

"I got you, Katsuki."

He knew you had done it to save him.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't supposed to happen.

He was supposed to be the one broken and bleeding out.

Bakugou was there when you woke up, weeks later. You had been put in a medically-induced coma as the doctors healed you. They said you'd been seconds from death. All he knew was that he didn't see your eyes or your smile for a long time, and that he would've done just about anything to change that.

The day you woke up he cried.

Not in front of you.

No, he hadn't become quite that pathetic.

Your eyes were droopy, you still looked utterly exhausted and he knew he should just let you rest.

"Why would you do something so fucking stupid?"

His voice was harsh in the quiet room, broken as your body on that day, and nearly as pain filled. You didn't say anything about the vulnerability in it.

"What else would I do?"

"Let me fight my own battles. Look at yourself. You weren't- It could've been different."

You knew there was more to it, he could tell. It wasn't his pride that had kept him at your bedside in all this time.

"I wouldn't change it, Katsuki."

When he went to bed that night, he fell asleep on a damp pillow.

And so time passed.

You recovered.

He stayed away.

In his second year, he continued training, working, becoming the best. He was strength, power, and rage--he was Bakugou Katsuki.

And all it took was one look from you for his brain to stop working.

He watched from afar as you recovered, as you became stronger by the day. Slowly and painfully, you remade yourself. And you became someone even better than before.

You opened up, and by the time you were cleared to train like normal, you had a class full of friends and a near permanent smile.

You even tried to talk to him more.

Every time you approached, he scowled, but the moment you smiled at him, he was lost once again.

You'd ask him to hangout, ask him if he wanted any help on homework, if he wanted to study together, "oh did you see that new ramen shop that opened up? we should go!", and he said no every time.

But he still trained with you the most out of everyone, watching how strong you'd become, and feeling a tightness in his chest whenever he saw one of the scars you'd gathered the day you saved him. He didn't know how, but you seemed to understand him better than anyone.

It took you getting a boyfriend for him to understand himself.

All those times his breathing stuttered or his heart stopped, or whatever stupid ass thing happened when you smiled, he ignored.

He ignored it until you kissed Shinsou Hitoshi in the hallway of the dorms.

It was light, nothing more than a peck on the lips really, but the moment he saw, he felt as if he'd been punched in the fucking chest by stupid Deku. You didn't see his retreating figure.

When he was back in his room, he clutched his chest.

He'd never felt pain quite like that before.

When he didn't come out for dinner and no one had seen him at breakfast the next day, Kirishima stopped by.

"Bro, are you okay?" Kirishima's concerned voice came through the door. "I'm coming in, don't be naked."

"I'm not naked, dumbass," Bakugou said, no real heat in his voice.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn. When Kirishima turned on the light, Bakugou barely reacted.

"What's wrong?" There was no mocking in Kiri's voice, nothing but concern when he saw how listless his best friend was.

"I think I fucked up."

"What do you mean?"

I think I love her.

He hadn't told Kirishima that at the time, but somehow the fucker figured it out anyway.

Bakugou's third year rolled around.

And he stopped sabotaging himself. He stopped being a fucking coward and rejecting your attempts at friendship, he stopped acting like a moody little emo shit, and he finally became your friend.

Although that word never felt right to him.

Not because he was in love with you, although that probably didn't help, but because since the moment you hugged him during first year, you had become something more than just a friend.

He didn't change too much outwardly. He still yelled. He still cussed. He still fucked up villains.

But he also helped Denki study for his classes, he trained with Deku of his own volition, and he maybe even once or twice told Kirishima that he was his best friend.

And he also fell deeper in love with you.

He also realized that being stupid about your relationship with Shinsou wasn't worth pushing you away as a friend.

It wasn't easy, though.

He was a jealous, angry ass bastard, scared of the power you had over him and the depth of his feelings.

But lashing out didn't make him feel any better.

(Still, when you broke up with that purple-haired bastard in the beginning of third year, he smiled all day)

You'd said something about the relationship being nothing more than puppy love, that it was fun and Shinsou was a wonderful person, but that you and him both agreed to simply be friends instead.

All Bakugou focused on was that you were happy, whats-his-face was no longer your boyfriend, and that you were smiling at him.

"Hey, Bakubro! You should totally ask her out, dude," Kirishima had an entirely too bright grin on his face.

Bakugou, finally feeling as if he had a chance, didn't even tell him to shut up. He did, however, immediately begin thinking about what shit you'd like to do on a date.

The only problem was that Bakugou had no fucking experience with romance.

Even that fucker Deku had a boyfriend.

But one night he woke up to a knock on his door.

"Hey, Katsuki." Your voice stopped him from yelling 'Piss off!' for waking him up.

Instead, he grabbed a shirt and pulled it on before going to the door.

"What're you doing? It's three in the morning." He was wide awake for you, but he wanted to know why. If it was anyone else, there would've been at least three expletives thrown into those sentences, but even woken up in the middle of the night, his voice was soft for you.

"I know, I just wanted to show you something." He was glad it was dark because the sincerity and excitement of your words made red craw up his face.

"I, uh, just give me a couple minutes," Bakugou was nawt going to hang out with you with sleep breath.

"Oh, yeah, I'll wait."

Bakugou went to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth before putting on some clean sweats and shirt.

"Are you ready?" You were whispering, but he could still hear the excitement in your voice. He was about to respond when you grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Any response stalled in his throat.

You brought him to the quad outside the dorms and finally stopped in front of a couple things that looked something like--where the hell did you get fireworks?

"Are you ready, Katsuki?" you asked, mischief making your eyes glow.

He cracked a smile. "The hell did you setup?"

"Just a couple of little fireworks. Hatsume made them for me." The grin on your face was straight up devious and he had never had a stronger urge to kiss you then he did at that moment. "Wanna light them with me?"

If it was with you, then yes.

So the two of you lit the fireworks and as you stepped back, you grabbed his hand again, holding it while you watched. Katsuki couldn't help but watch you as the fireworks went. Lights bathed his surroundings, throwing blue and red and countless other colors around, but all he could focus on was you.

"Hey, I wanted you to watch them," you said, looking at him. "They're for you."

And that statement made him blush hard enough that he immediately turned his face to the sky so you wouldn't see. But it didn't last long. As the last firework went up, he turned his face to look at you.

And he found you looking back.

"I think I might be in love with you," you said softly, something akin to awe in your eyes, but nothing less than complete sincerity in your voice.

Bakugou couldn't think for a second. All he knew was that you were here, you brought these fireworks for him, you comforted him on the worst night of his life, you nearly died to save his life, and that you might love him.

"For the last two years, I've started and ended each day with the thought of you." Katsuki's words shocked himself, but he couldn't regret it. "I don't know what it's like anymore, to not be in love with you. And I don't want to know.

You stepped closer, eyes wide. "Do you mean it?"

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he said, the nerves finally coming.

And you kissed him.

When it was over, he mumbled something against your lips.

"I got you."

"WHO IS SETTING OFF FIREWORKS AT THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING?"

i wrote this for funsies and finished it in one sitdown, hope u all liked it!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha bakugou #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katuski x reader

248 notes · View notes